Burn, Baby, Burn!
by Dark-Syaoran
Summary: Harry Potter loves to watch things burn. A series of oneshot ficlets.
1. Pyro Harry and the Dursley's Demise

**Title: **Burn, Baby, Burn!

**Summary: **Harry Potter loves to watch things burn! Pre-Hogwarts. Pyromaniac!Harry.

**Disclaimer: **I do not, and never will, own Harry Potter.

-x-**X**-x-

An underfed eight year old Harry Potter with abnormal sized clothes smirked evilly as he pushed open the small door to his cupboard, finally free of his prison. His fat oaf of an uncle, Vernon Dursley, an 'upstanding gentleman' of the community had forgotten to lock the door like he usually did at night, a very big mistake and probably his last if Harry had anything to do about it.

Crawling out on his hands and knees, the sickly pale boy quickly pulled himself upright and glanced around. It was nearing midnight but he could see as if it was dusk because of the large full moon shining in the night sky, lighting up the entire house through its wide windows. The only sounds heard were coming from his uncle upstairs, snoring away, and the clock on the wall that ticked with every passing second.

Still smirking, he casually entered the kitchen and easily unlocked the back door, slipping outside. He had waited years to be able to get back at his relatives and now he had his chance. All the mental and physical abuse he had endured since he was dumped on their doorstep at the age of one was about to be repaid with interest.

Slightly skipping, he made his way over to his uncles shed softly humming a tune he had heard the day before on the television while locked away in his cupboard. It was an upbeat tune that somehow felt appropriate at a time like this, right before his revenge. Then he'd be free, something he longed for with every fiber in his small, abused body.

Bending down, he upturned the small welcome mat placed in front of the sheds door and picked up a small key. Placing it in the keyhole on the small brass colored lock he turned it clockwise earning a quiet click as it opened. Unhooking it from the metal door, he threw it off to the side somewhere and carefully pulled the door open, making sure he made as little noise as possible, not wanting to wake his relatives up and get in trouble. Walking inside, he flicked the light switch beside the doorframe, his smirk returning as he took in the cabinet in the far corner filled with various poisonous and flammable liquids.

Why was he happy to see such a thing? Well you see, ever since the age of six when he first got his hand on a match, Harry had been fascinated by fire and what destruction the element could provide. Burning things had become a hobby of sorts for him as he didn't have any friends to occupy his time. Fire was his only companion in life, helping him strike back at those that struck at him.

It started off innocently enough with him burning paper and other easily burnt things like plastic. Then he moved onto using deodorant cans as a type of flamethrower, spraying its flammable contents over an open flame of a lighter. He quickly got bored of such things though and moved onto bigger targets.

Like last week for instance. One of the girls that picked on him at school had got a little more... annoying for his tastes and he decided to do something about it. Stealing a lighter from their teacher's desk drawer before lunch, he tried setting her disgustingly bright pink dress on fire. He had nearly succeeded in his task but was caught at the last second by Dudley, his overweight cousin that resembled a pig-in-a-wig. He'd gotten in loads of trouble for that at school and at home, probably getting his worst beating to date. It really was a shame he wasn't able to do more than ruin the tail end of her dress though, it would have been amusing to see the snobby girl running around like a chicken that's lost its head.

Another case was when he lit one of Missus Figg's, an annoying old lady that lived around the corners cat on fire after it scratched him. He'd coated its tail in gasoline he was able to steal from someone's garage and then wrapped said limb in paper. The cat had taken off like a rocket when he'd touched the match to its soaked appendage, screeching loudly. They say cheetah's are the fastest land animal in the world but Harry was sure that that tabby cat could have given it a run for its money.

Sighing happily at the memory, he padded over to the large blue steel cabinet only to discover it too was locked with a similar devise that'd been on the door to the shed. Frowning, he looked around for a key but couldn't find one so he tried the one he used before, praying it would work. It didn't.

Growling low in his throat, he walked over to one of the walls covered in tools and pulled down a heavy set of bolt cutters. He'd seen his uncle use the tool millions of times and knew how to operate the contraption. Heaving it over his shoulder with surprising strength for such a weak looking boy, he walked back over to the cabinet and lifted the cutters towards the lock, opening the mouth enough for the padlocks hook fit inside. Taking a deep breathe, he clamped it together with all his might, cutting it in half in a matter of seconds, wincing when the now destroyed lock hit the concrete ground with a loud clang. He really didn't know just how strong he really was.

Carefully placing the bolt cutters on the floor, he reached for the handles and pulled the cabinet open. He immediately sought the gasoline, having used it successfully in the past. He didn't want to stuff this up so he went with what had worked already for him. Pulling the large plastic red container off the shelf that read 'gasoline', he nearly toppled over at its weight. Setting it down, he got in a better position to carry it then lifted it up to his chest, placing his hands underneath to steady it. Under control, he slowly made his way outside and back towards the house.

Lugging the container inside, he set about making a trail around the kitchen table and up on the kitchen benches, making sure he didn't use too much as he still had the rest of the house. He quickly made it to the living room where he splashed the couches a little and made a trail around the outer edge of the room. Done, he moved to the hallway and up the stairs, pouring enough for a decent fire to travel up. When he got to the top he quickly did the second floor hallway and stopped at the end, directly in front of both his aunt and uncle's door, and his cousins.

Deciding to do his cousin first, he turned the knob of the door and slowly pushed it open. He winced as the door creaked but luckily Dudley was a very heavy sleeper. It also helped that his uncles snoring smothered nearly everything else.

Entering the pig's domain, he sneered at the disgusting fat lump on the bed, tangled up in his bed sheets. For a second Harry felt like giving up his attempt and just murdering the three with a kitchen knife but his love for fire prevailed and he continued in his task, soaking a good part of the carpet around the lumps bed and even splashing a bit of the blankets that wrapped around the mammoth child like a python. Satisfied, he moved out of Dudley's room and inside his aunt and uncles.

Once more he got the urge to just stab them to death as his eyes rested on the large man and his boney horse faced wife but pushed it away. Retracing what he did in Dudley's room he emptied the rest of the container around their bed and some of the blankets.

A sudden snort caught him by surprise and jumped back instinctively, tripping over his own feet. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, his eyes widened in fear as Vernon started to move, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He stopped breathing as the large man looked to be waking when the movement gradually stopped and the snoring continued. Nearly choking on his tongue, he got hastily to his feet and quietly bolted from the room. Only when he was down stairs again did he allow his lungs air, taking in deep calming breathes to stop his racing heart that felt as if it would explode within his ribcage.

"That was close..." He murmured softly, the first words he'd uttered all night.

Calmed, he wandered back over to his cupboard and reached inside, pulling out a green colored lighter. He'd stolen it months ago, waiting for this opportunity to strike. It would finally be put to good use.

Humming that same upbeat tune, he marched towards the front door and quickly unlocked it, throwing it open. Turning, he bent over and used his thumb to spark the flint as he pushed down on the small red 'button' to release the gas. Lit, he lowered the lighter to the gasoline soaked floor, chuckling darkly. "This is what you get for hurting me."

In an instant the carpet was on fire and spreading quickly. Harry mused that the trail of fire that shot of in different directions looked like snakes. Turning around, he quickly bolted outside, closing the door as he went. When he reached the road he turned around and waited. It wasn't long before he noticed the orange glow that appeared in the lounge room had also appeared in his cousin's room. Still humming that eerie upbeat tune, he watched and listened closely.

"Burn, baby, burn!" He muttered sadistically.

Just as large grey clouds of smoke started leaking out from closed windows and doors a scream of terror pierced the night's quiet atmosphere. Harry knew that shrill voice anywhere and started laughing, loudly. Soon two other voices joined hers as the house burned around them. The boy's eyes widened however as a large fire covered object came hurling out his large cousin's window, glass shattering as whatever it was fell and hit the ground below with a loud thump followed by sickening cracks.

Harry laughed hysterically when he realized it was Dudley. The stupid boy had thrown himself out his window to escape the fire.

Neighbor's lights were now flickering on, being awoken by the screams. Directly across the street at number five, a young woman looked out her bedroom window and nearly fainted. Stumbling, she ran to the phone to call the fire brigade and the police.

Harry continued to laugh as one of the screams abruptly came to a halt. His aunt was dead. He smiled as he thought about how she'd look as a burnt covered corpse, probably a lot better than she had alive.

The smoke was now billowing from the building in big thick black clouds, filling the sky. The orange glow from the fire slowly overtaking the house, turning everything it touched an eerie gold color. It was a beautiful sight.

Then all of a sudden a large explosion tore through the back of the house ignited from the gas stove, the force shattering windows up and down connecting streets, rocking the houses next to number four on their foundations. Harry stumbled back in surprise and landed on his back, eyes gleaming in triumph. His ears were ringing badly and he tried shaking his head to get rid of the sound. Something landing next to him though caught his attention and he turned to see the large beefy charred arm of his now 'late' Uncle Vernon.

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. When he was certain what he was seeing was real he started laughing again, clutching at his midsection as tears started streaming down his face. He was finally free! No more starving, no more beatings and no more stupid cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't have been happier.

Calming down, he glanced around the mounting debris and noticed all the people who had exited their houses watching him in horror. Obviously they put everything together and came to the same outcome. He smiled darkly at each and every one of them before bolting down the street and away from Privet Drive. His hearing was rapidly returning and he could hear the sirens of the police and fire brigade. He had to get out of there fast.


	2. Pyro Harry and the Philosophers Stone

**Authors Notes: **A fellow author has convinced me to write a series of ficlets about what Pyromaniac!Harry would do in different situations in the books. I found this idea interesting so I decided to do it. Darkness Reigns Supreme is still my main story this is just for... stress release or when I'm bored.

This is in no way connected with the first ficlet apart from the fact that Harry's a pyromaniac. The following ficlet is set in Harry's first year, around the time they try to stop 'Snape' getting the Philosophers Stone.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry smiled grimly as Hagrid, the large man who rescued him from the Dursley's, explained how to put Fluffy to sleep. He loved the man for what he did, really he did. Getting him away from the Dursley's made him a good guy in Harry's book but the man was an idiot, plain and simple. He just didn't know how to keep his mouth shut.

Ignoring the rest of what the large man was saying, he turned and headed towards the castle. If he could get his hands on the stone he could do all sorts of things like turn metal into gold, thus becoming the richest person in the world, or even use the Elixir of Life to live longer like Nicholas Flamel before him. The possibilities made him salivate but wisely reframed from drooling like a baby. He had a reputation to uphold.

"We have to tell Dumbledore! Hagrid told that stranger how to get passed Fluffy and it was either You-Know-Who or Snape under that cloak. It must have been easy for them to get the information out of him when he was drunk." Hermione Granger exclaimed as they entered the entrance hall. Harry leered at her bushy hair in annoyance, wishing with all his might that'd turn into a large fireball. Too bad it didn't work. He wanted the bloody stone so why the hell should he tell Dumbledore?

"But where's Dumbledore's office?" Ronald Weasley asked stupidly, the usual confused facial expression he always wore was firmly planted on his face. Harry mentally groaned, wishing he had never threatened the Sorting Hat with a good roasting if it didn't put him in Gryffindor. The only reason he wanted in the house was because of the colors, red and gold, so much like his beloved fire. If he'd known he'd be surrounded by idiots and annoying know-it-all twits he would have gladly went to Slytherin.

"Look, how about we ju-" Harry began.

"Professor McGonagall!" The bushy haired girl yelled out, running towards the Transfiguration Professor who looked to be carrying a heavy load of books. Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously as he was interrupted, arm twitching, itching to pull out his wand and flame grill the little bitch.

"Miss Granger? What ever is the matter?" McGonagall asked in confusion at the panicked look on the young girls face. Ron also had a similar expression, finally losing that clueless idiot look while Harry looked on with a blank face, eyes boring into the professors, an eerie light glowing within. She shuddered involuntarily but none of them saw it except Harry who smirked sardonically.

"We need to see Professor Dumbledore." Harry deadpanned when Hermione gave him some look that was supposed to be intimidating, supposed to be being the keywords. I mean really, who would be intimidated by an overgrown bucktoothed beaver?

"See Professor Dumbledore?" She repeated, staring suspiciously at the three. She would never admit it but the Potter boy had freaked her out ever since she'd laid eyes upon him at the start of the school year. She wasn't exactly sure what it was exactly but for some reason he reminded her of an old school mate of hers from her days at Hogwarts named Tom Riddle. He was a boy who looked remarkably like Harry that had been two years her junior, a Slytherin who was known as a loner, having no real friends, only acquaintances. "Why?"

"It's... sort of a secret." Ron replied timidly. Harry nearly punched him in the face as McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," She said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" Harry asked happily. "Now?"

McGonagall stared at him in confusion as did the other two. Shaking her head, she replied. "Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time-"

"But this is important!" Hermione burst out. McGonagall found it strange that Potter didn't appear to be listening anymore, instead muttering about something called gasoline and matches.

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Granger?"

Harry shook his head, seeming to come out of whatever little world he'd been in. "Look," He snapped, getting thoroughly annoyed at the hold up. Throwing caution and better judgment into the wind he told her the truth. "It's about the Philosophers Stone."

Whatever the old biddy had expected, it wasn't that, as the books she was carrying tumbled to the floor. She didn't even attempt to pick them up and continued to stare at Harry in shock.

"How do you know-" She spluttered.

Harry tuned the rest out as Hermione and McGonagall talked, Ron standing off to the side looking stupid once more. He just wanted to steal the fucking stone, was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. This conversation was wearing thin real fast, making Harry's blood boil. He was just about to snap at them when McGonagall bent over and picked up her books before briskly walking passed without a glance. At least that was over...

"It's tonight," Harry said, bored with standing in the middle of the hall like an idiot and decided to humor them. "Snape, or whoever it is, will go through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we-" Hermione gasped in horror and Harry, along with Ron, turned to see Servus Snape in all his glory. If Harry were to look at the others he would have found their faces amusing.

"Good afternoon." He said smoothly. Hermione and Ron stared at him while Harry checked his nails, disinterested at what was happening. Snape growled softly in his throat but said nothing about Harry's lack of reaction.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this." He said, with an odd, twisted smile. Harry finally looked up from his nails, smirking lightly.

"Why is that?" He asked innocently, staring Snape in the eyes. For some reason his mind told him to not make eye contact so he instead moved his eyes to the man's greasy hair. His smirked widened, thinking about how flammable Snape's hair was with all that grease. He could see it now, Snape running through the corridors of Hogwarts, his head on fire.

Either Snape didn't hear him or chose not to comment. Harry bet on the latter. After the Professor finished his little speech that was aimed to... terrify them but only served to amuse Harry, the man stalked off towards the dungeons, robes billowing out behind him. Harry really wanted to learn how to do that but didn't think Professor Snape would appreciate him asking to teach him.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged and started walking back to Gryffindor tower.

"I don't know about you but I'm tired." He yawned to prove his point. "I'm going to bed."

"Bed?" Ron asked incredulously. "Harry it's four in the afternoon!"

"And your point is?" He asked lazily, running a hand through his long raven locks. They both stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. Harry thought they'd be used to his indifference to things by now.

"What about the stone?" Hermione all but shouted. Harry frowned at her.

"Oh, very smart Hermione. Yell it out for the whole school to hear." He smirked as her face turned red. "The stone... well, we did our best. It's McGonagall's fault now if it's stolen."

"But Harry-"

"Like I said, I'm tired and going to bed." He snapped before setting off at a faster pace, leaving the two behind.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry smirked as he finally heard the last person fall asleep. It'd taken longer than he had hoped but everyone was finally in bed, out like lights. Grabbing his father's invisibility cloak, he silently crept across the dormitory, out the door and down the stairs, making a beeline for the portrait hole. He froze when he spotted a person emerge from the shadows.

"Where are you going?" The person said, appearing in front of him holding a toad. He smirked when he realized who it was.

"Hello Neville." He answered politely.

"Where are you going?" He repeated, trying to stop his pet toad, Trevor, from escaping his sweaty hands. The toad really didn't like his master for some reason.

Harry sighed. "Go back to sleep Neville."

"You're going out again." He accused. "You can't go out. You'll be caught again like last time and get Gryffindor in trouble!" Only if fire could solve _all_ life's problems... well it can, but he didn't really feel like roasting the boy. He kind of liked him, the only person he did like apart from the Weasley Twins in the entire school, even if the boy was a coward... most of the time.

"What I'm doing Neville is a little more important than a stupid cup so if you'd gladly step aside so I can be on my way..." He trailed off, realizing the boy wasn't going to move anytime soon. "Look Neville, I like you, really I do, but if you don't get out of my way I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"I can't let you do this!" He exclaimed, dropping his toad and raising his fists. Harry thought he looked hilarious. "I'll... fight you!"

Harry sighed again. "Sorry Neville."

Raising his wand, he flicked it at the boy and intoned, "_Petrificus Totalus._"

Harry watched as Neville's arms and legs snapped together in an instant. His whole body went ridged and he swayed on the spot for a couple of seconds before falling back, hitting the ground with a soft thud, completely immobile. Standing above his head, Harry watched as the young boy stared at him in horror, his eyes being the only part of his body able to move.

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" Harry said, swishing his wand how they practiced and flicked. Slowly, the frozen form of Neville Longbottom floated into the air. Harry directed the boy's body above one of the couches and canceled the spell.

"There, the couch is much more comfortable than the floor. Bye Neville." Turning, he was about to head towards the portrait when out of no where Ron and Hermione appeared from the staircases.

"Harry!" Hermione stage whispered across the room. "What did you do to Nev-"

Whipping around, Harry fired two stunners at the both of them before they could react. He smirked as they both crumpled in a heap on the floor at the base of the stairs. "The stone is mine."

Quickly exiting the common room, he covered himself with the cloak and rushed to the third floor corridor as fast as he could. He wanted to beat Snape... or Voldemort... or whoever the fuck it was trying to steal the stone before him. It wouldn't do him any good to get there and not find anything.

Arriving, he quickly jogged to the door that led to Fluffy, stopping when he heard a harmonic melody coming from within. It was obvious that someone had beaten him to the metaphorical punch. He swore under his breath and pushed the door open a crack, revealing a large golden harp and a sleeping three-headed dog. Sneaking inside, he pulled out his wand with a flame spell on the tip of his tongue if need be. He wasn't going to die without at least burning the fucker.

Bending down, he slowly opened the trapdoor. Looking down, he could see nothing but darkness but that didn't worry him. Shrugging off his cloak, he paused when he noticed the music was no long playing. Lifting his head, he saw that Fluffy was slowly starting to wake up. Before the dog had a chance to fully wake, Harry launched himself through the hole, closing his eyes and hoping of the best. Luckily he landed on something soft and not the hard, cold, stone floor.

Unluckily, the soft thing was alive...

"What the fuck!" He yelped as a tentacle wrapped around his legs, pulling him deeper into the mess of green, pulsing vines. "Devils Snare, you have got to be kidding me." Struggling, he snarled his annoyance as more pulsing vines wrapped around his body and arms, trapping him completely. That's when he noticed that he'd lost his wand when he fell.

"You picked the wrong day to piss me off!" He spat, focusing his magic how he used to before coming to Hogwarts. Slowly, his hands started to glow before they erupted in flames, burning straight through the vines that were trying to squeeze him to death.

"DIE!" He roared as he climbed out of the plants reach and flung his arms in front of him, great streams of fire flying from his hands. He started cackling insanely as the plant screeched and swung its vines about, trying to escape the assault. "Mwuahahahahaha!"

Within seconds the feared plant known as Devils Snare was nothing more than a pile of ashes. Harry, no longer using his wandless magic was still laughing. It really was a disturbing sight, seeing such a small, pale, weak looking child cackle like a madman. The insane gleam in his large, bright emerald eyes was even more off putting. He looked more dangerous than most fully trained, grown wizards.

Getting himself under control, he straightened his robes and started off down the passage way to the right. Everything was silent; the only sounds that could be heard were his shoes clopping against the stone and the water dripping from the roof. As he moved further along however the silence was replaced by an odd rustling and clinking sound.

Reaching the end of the passage, Harry looked around the large brilliantly lit chamber he was now in, its ceiling arching high above him. Looking up, he spotted hundreds of little jewel-bright birds fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the other side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door that looked as if it had seen better days. Next to said door was a pile of broomsticks ready to be ridden.

Gliding across the room, robes fanning out behind him, he tried to force the door open but despite its shoddy appearance it was sturdy and sealed tightly shut. Looking at the birds once more he discovered they were actually keys with wings, obviously charmed. Harry was starting to see a pattern forming in the obstacles. The first was Hagrid's, the second Sprouts and this was the work of Flitwick, the Charms Master.

"Oh great... that means there are at least three more to go." Sighing, he mounted one of the brooms. For the next few minutes he zoomed around the room chasing after the keys and his patience was wearing thin. Focusing with all his might, he pointed his wand at the fat rusty key he was chasing. "_Accio!_" It wobbled in the air and slowed down enough for him to catch it. Apparently it was charmed against the summoning charm.

Landing, he quickly unlocked the door and shot through, slamming it shut as the other keys neared. The sounds of keys pounding against the door sounded for the next few seconds. Ignoring the noise, he continued on until he came upon a giant chess set. Broom still in hand, he mounted it and flew straight across, not even bothering with it. He wasn't that great at chess anyway.

Landing, he dropped the broom and advanced on the large double doors. Pushing them open, his nose was immediately bombarded with one of the foulest smells in existence, one he had smelt before but not to this degree.

"They have a bloody troll down here... for Merlin's sake." Glancing around, he did his best to creep across the room. He was about half way across when he heard the noise of something charging from behind. Diving to his left, he winced at the sound of the troll's giant club smashing against the floor, echoing throughout the chamber.

Jumping to his feet, he swung his wand in an arch in front of him. "_Flagrate!_"

The troll, twice the size of the one that attacked Hermione, roared in pain as a thin line of fire whipped into its chest, its thick skin being penetrated. In a fit of rage, it lifted its club and threw it at Harry like a spear. Stumbling out of the way just barely, he aimed his wand at the ugly, smelly trolls face. "_Incendio!_"

Harry's arm threatened to give way as his wand bucked violently, releasing are large stream of fire that impacted against the trolls face. As a heavy as it was, the troll was lifted off its feet and thrown back into the chamber wall, its face charred black. It slumped to the floor, blood oozing out the back of its head like a river of purple goo, unmoving.

Panting, Harry glared at the unconscious beast. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Satisfied with his work, he turned and marched towards the next room. He was tiring of these games fast. The next room was small with a table placed in the middle; several vials perched upon its surface. As soon as he took a few steps into the room both doors were immediately covered in flames, purple flames behind and black flames ahead. Aiming his wand at the door across from him with the black flames, he fired a jet of water at it. Nothing happened.

Wandering over to the table, he picked up a sheet of parchment with instructions on it. Grunting in frustration, he burnt the parchment with his hands and marched over to the black flame door. Concentrating, he called his wandless magic forth and placed his now flaming hands in the black fire. Slowly, the black flames seemed to be sucked straight into his very hands leaving nothing but a door.

"Did they really think fire would keep _me_ out?" He chuckled and continued through the door. He followed the long set of stairs downward for over five minutes before finally reaching the final chamber. Someone was already there, standing in front of a large mirror, one he had seen before. Thing was, it wasn't Snape or Voldemort... it was Quirrell.

Harry sneered at the man from behind and aimed his wand. "_Avada Kedavra._"

Quirrell spun around in shock, eyes widening as he saw the green curse closing in on his position. He was able to move in time, the curse missing him by mere millimeters, but the mirror wasn't so lucky. The green curse smashed into the magical mirror and exploded with great force, glass and parts of its frame firing in different directions, several imbedding themselves in the professor's body.

The man howled in pain as Harry, who was exhausted from using two unforgiveables in such a short span of time, slumped to his knees. Harry saw some type of vortex open where the mirror was, sucking everything back in before it exploded again with magical energy. Quirrell was thrown across the room like a rag doll, hitting the stone wall with a loud crack, his head spitting open like a coconut. A black mist sprung from his body and shot off into one of the walls like a ghost, vanishing from sight.

Dazed, he stared at his former defense professor's open skull, his brain visible for all to see.

"Don't tell me the stone was in the mirror..."


	3. Pyro Harry and the Chamber of Secrets

**Authors Notes: **The following ficlet is set during the Chamber of Secrets when Ron and Harry are going to get Lockhart to help them. Well, Ron his leading a disinterested Harry along... it's not like he cares. Remember, this has nothing to do with the other two before it...

-x-**X**-x-

"D'you know what? I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a Basilisk in there." Ron said naively, dragging Harry along. Harry rolled his eyes at the boy's stupidity, wondering why he let the idiot hang around him. If idiocy was contagious, Harry would be a fucking vegetable by now, he was sure of it.

Couldn't he see Lockhart was a joke? The man couldn't even control a room of pixies let alone take on a Basilisk or do any of the things he said he'd done in his books. Harry wasn't sure where the fraud got his information for his books from but he'd bet half his vault at Gringotts that it was all bullshit, or mostly bullshit. At least they'd had one good purpose though despite the utter garbage within, keeping the Gryffindor common room warm at nights via the fireplace.

"Whatever Ron." Harry muttered, glancing around lazily. The castle was darkening with each passing minute, the sun close to setting. When they arrived at Lockhart's office they both heard the sounds of rustling clothes and trunk lids being snapped shut. Ron knocked on the door loudly as Harry buffed his nails against his school robe, making sure they were clean. The sounds immediately stopped.

A few seconds of silence followed before the door opened the tiniest crack, showing one of Lockhart's eyes peering through. Harry fought down the urge to kick the door open.

"Oh... Mister Potter... Mister Weasley..." He said, opening the door a mite wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment. If you would be quick..."

"Professor, we've got some information for you," Ron said. "We think it'll help you."

"Er – well – it's not terribly-" The side of Lockhart's face they could see looked very uncomfortable and the reason dawned on Harry in an instant but didn't comment. "I mean – well – all right." He sighed, opening the door fully for them to enter.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor with three more closed off to the side, already packed. Robes of all different colors and fashions had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"What's going on here?" Ron demanded. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Isn't it obvious," Harry drawled, eyeing Lockhart's lilac robes in disgust. "He's leaving, what else."

Lockhart eyed Harry warily as the boy started rubbing his thumb and index finger together, as if he was trying to start something. "Er, well, yes," Lockhart said, ripping a life-sized poster of himself off the back of the door, rolling it up as he spoke. "Urgent call... unavoidable... got to go..."

"What about my sister?" Ron asked jerkily. Lockhart swore he heard Harry mutter, 'What about her?' under his breath but reasoned he was hearing things.

"Well, as to that – most unfortunate," Lockhart said quickly, avoiding their eyes, especially Harry's as they were now glowing with an eerie light, as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying its contents into a small bag. "No one regrets more than I-"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry mocked lightly seeing as Ron was about to explode. "You can't go now." He emphasized this point by waggling a finger in Lockhart's face, smirking cockily. "Not with all this... _dark_ stuff going on here."

"Well I must say... when I took the job," Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "There was nothing in the job description... didn't expect..."

"You mean you're _running away_?" Ron screamed disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books!" Harry felt like drowning himself... Ron was such a fucking ignoramus!

"Books can be misleading." Lockhart delicately put.

"You wrote them!" Ron shouted.

"My dear boy," Lockhart snapped, straightening up and frowning at Ron as if he had no brain, which was pretty close to the truth in Harry's opinion. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think _I'd_ done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves." He explained slowly, hoping the boy could understand his words. "He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean come on..." Harry couldn't help but snort as he heard that last one.

"So this is how you did it then." Harry smirked, eyeing the man strangely. It gave Lockhart the creeps. "You've just been taking credit for other people's hard work."

Lockhart quickly regained his composure. "Harry, Harry," He said, shaking his head. "It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of hard work, Harry. It's not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his remaining trucks shut and locked them. "Let's see, I think that's everything. Yes, only one thing left." Harry saw the man reaching for his wand and smirked sardonically. The man was making a big mistake.

"Did you know," Harry said cheerfully, gaining Lockhart's attention. He was now openly leering at the man, a strange hunger burning in his eyes. "Silk is very flammable." He gestured to the robes he was wearing and then to his left hand that was now incased in red, hot flames. Lockhart stared at him in horror, unable to believe what he was seeing. Ron had a similar look.

"Now, if you so much as move an inch I'll roast your pretty boy ass, got it?" He snapped harshly. Lockhart jumped, as did Ron, and nodded weakly, hand slowly inching away from his wand. "Ron, be useful for once and fetch his wand." Nodding, the red haired boy quickly snatched Lockhart's wand from his pocket and handed it to Harry. Harry just raised an eyebrow questionably at Lockhart, daring him to do something as he grabbed the wand with his left hand, turning it to ashes.

"Now we are going to take a little walk." Harry stated while walking to the door. "Come along Lockhart, Ron."

For the next few minutes the unlikely trio walked through the dark halls of Hogwarts, the only light coming from his hand that still cackled with fire. Harry was amused to notice that the other two kept shooting him terrified glances. Finally they stopped in front of a door, a door that led to Moaning Myrtles bathroom.

"In." The two quickly complied, Harry lazily following. "Now then..." Whipping out his wand, he stunned Ron quickly before conjuring ropes, smirking as they wrapped tightly around Lockhart. The man was about to scream but Harry silenced him with a charm. The terror in his eyes made Harry feel giddy, the flames incasing his left hand pulsing brighter.

"What's going on here?" A whiney voice came from above. Harry craned his head to get a good look at Myrtle who was floating upside down above them. She was watching Harry with interest, wondering what the boy would be doing an unconscious boy and a bound professor. "This looks kinky." Harry barely kept himself from snorting.

"Hello Myrtle." He smiled his most charming smile and he was pleased to note that she blushed... no he wasn't mistaken she actually blushed a silvery hue. He didn't know ghosts could do that. "How are you this pleasant evening?"

She smiled at him shyly. "Hello Harry, I'm fine..." She trailed off, looking towards the professor and Ron questionably. "What are you doing?"

"I just came by to ask you something," He said smoothly. "It's about your death. How did you die Myrtle?"

Her eyes lit up and her body swelled importantly as she started babbling excitedly about teasing, Olive Hornby, hiding in one of the toilet stalls, a boy talking in a strange language, and a pair of great big yellow eyes. Harry smirked and asked, "So, you just dropped dead? Where did you see the eyes?"

"Somewhere there." She said, pointing vaguely towards the sink in front of her toilet.

"Thank you Myrtle." He said, blowing her a kiss. Harry chuckled as her whole face went dark silver and she shot off into one of the stalls. Lockhart was looking at him as if he were insane. "What? Ghosts need loving too, you know."

Looking towards the sink, it looked like any other. He examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it; scratched on the side of the one of the copper taps was a tiny snake. Harry was surprised that no one had ever found it before... or maybe they had and didn't expect the great Salazar Slytherin to hide his entrance in a girl's bathroom. Salazar Slytherin, the voyeur. Now that was disturbing...

"Okay, enough of that, this is more important. I get to see a real Basilisk... oh, and save Ron's sister too I guess... well, it's obvious what I have to do." Staring at the small snake on the side of the copper tape, he concentrated as hard as he could.

"**_Open._**" He hissed in parseltongue, sending shivers up Lockhart's spine. He looked like he was about to pass out from terror.

The tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move. In fact, the sink sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was open.

"I'm hardly impressed." Harry said in disappointment, turning to look at Lockhart. The ponce had fallen over at some point and cracked his nose on the tiled floor, smashing it to pieces. Harry shook his head and stared at the man in amusement. "Sorry about that Lockhart, I should have put you up against the wall or something. Anyway, you're not done yet." Levitating the man upright, Harry directed his defense professor into the pipe. "Bye" And with that, Lockhart was out of sight.

Waiting a few moments, he then positioned his body into the pipe, shook his left hand to put out the fire, and slide down. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as the one he was in, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards, and he knew he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located.

And then, just as he was getting annoyed at the amount of time it was taking he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel, large enough to stand in. Lockhart was next to him, blood still seeping from his broken nose, running down his cheeks and chin as he faced the ceiling.

Harry hurriedly got to his feet and cleaned himself off with a spell, then levitated Lockhart to float beside him. He also removed the silencing charm he had placed on his professor, bringing the man's silent whimpers of pain audible. He smirked at the blond prick before heading down the tunnel, said prick floating at his side.

"Enjoying the adventure professor?" Harry asked conversationally as he lit his wand. The tunnel was dark, very dark, and he could hardly see anything at all. "It's about time you went on a _real_ one don't you think? If you're lucky enough to survive maybe you can write a book about this. I'm sure people would flock from all over to read about the great myth of the chamber. Then again, you wouldn't want them to know that a twelve year old boy did all the work while you hovered by his side." A loud crunching sound made him stop and look down. The floor was littered with the bones of various animals, mainly rodents.

"How... disgusting." He sneered before continuing. He made sure to bop the professor's head on the roof a few times, causing him to cry out in pain. "Do shut up, will you? It's only a few bumps."

Rounding a bend in the tunnel, he stopped as he spotted a large object. Holding his wand high, the light slid over a giant snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that shed it must have been at least twenty feet long.

"That's one big fucking snake." He muttered in awe, staring at the skin. Lockhart, however, started to hyperventilate at the sight of it. His eyes were wide and darting around wildly as his breathing became more erratic. He was on the verge of a large panic attack.

"Let me go!" He screamed, struggling with the rope that bound him. "Please let me go! I beg you!" Tears started running down his cheeks as his struggles became more urgent. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

Harry glared at him in annoyance. "Do you want to know what happens when fire meets skin, Lockhart?" His lips quirked into a sadistic grin, eyes flashing dangerously. "Let me assure you, it isn't the most pleasant feeling."

"Please! I'll do anything you want!" He pled hysterically as Harry continued walking, 'dragging' him along. Harry ignored the man as he continued begging, navigating the twist and turns of the tunnel. The floor was starting to become a lot smoother and was easier to walk on without stumbling. Finally they came upon a stone wall on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great glinting emeralds. It was obvious to Harry what he had to do.

"**_Open._**" He said in a low, faint hiss. Lockhart squealed like a girl.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry, smirking confidently, walked inside, Lockhart floating at his side. He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Harry looked around, finally impressed with the fabled Chamber of Secrets. The silence was deafening, even Lockhart had stopped trying to escape and was gaping at the room in amazement.

Finished scanning the area he moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the slightest sign of movement lest the Basilisk get him with its deadly gaze. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once he thought he saw one stir.

Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. He craned his neck to get a good look at the giant face above. Only one man could look like a monkey yet somehow seem to radiate elegance. It was a statue of Salazar Slytherin himself, member of the Hogwarts Four.

Looking around, he spotted a small, blacked robed figure with bright red hair lying face down. It was Ginny Weasley.

"But where's the bloody Basilisk." Harry grunted in annoyance, looking around. It was when that he noticed Lockhart had passed out. "Oh yes, you are a hero." He drawled sarcastically, dumping the man on the floor roughly. "And you conned the entire wizarding world? Merlin save us..."

Harry, who was starting to get bored rather quickly, wandered over to Ginny and flipped her over with his foot. She was pale, too pale, and her breathing was shallow.

"Come on, get up and let's go." He kicked her in the side hard but she didn't wake. So he tried again... and then bent down and slapped her when that didn't work. He was about burn her when a voice sounded from behind him.

"She won't wake."

Harry turned to see a tall, black-haired teen leaning against the nearest pillar. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though he was looking at him through a misted window. Even so, Harry never forgot a face.

"Tom Riddle." The boy inclined his head. Harry stared him in the eyes unflinching; smirking slightly at Riddle's growing unease. He started fidgeting at first before finally looking away from Harry, towards Ginny.

"She's still alive, but only just." Harry shrugged.

"I don't care." Riddle's eyes snapped back to his.

"What?" He asked uncertainly.

"I said I don't care about that little stalking bitch. I only came down to see the Basilisk, now where is it?" Riddle stared at him in shock, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "Well?" Harry was getting impatient. "Where is it?"

Snapping out of his shock, he straightened up and walked towards the base of the statue, keeping his eyes on Harry. "It won't come until it's called."

"By you?" Harry smirked at his startled look. "Let me guess... you're a ghost or spirit that possessed the diary?"

"Indeed." Riddle said, inching towards the diary and picking it up, holding it protectively to his chest.

"So... call it."

Riddle stared at him as if he was mad but nodded, turning towards the statue. "**_Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!_**"

Harry looked up as he heard a loud grinding noise. Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving, its mouth slowly opening wider and wider. Before it opened completely, a loud tune echoed throughout the chamber, making Harry's hair stand on end. He'd heard this once before in Dumbledore's office and recognized it immediately.

Turning, a large red and gold bird was flying at him, clutching something in its beak. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, dropped whatever it was in Harry's hand before shooting up into Slytherin's mouth, out of sight. Suddenly a loud hiss of pain filled the chamber as Fawkes attacked the Basilisk. A few moments later the phoenix exited, landing on the stone floor a short distance away as a huge, green snake fell from the statues gaping mouth and hit the hard, stone ground with a thunderous bang.

Looking at it closely, Harry noticed its eyes were gone. Fawkes had pecked them out.

"Thanks Fawkes." He said, smirking at the firebird. It chirped at him happily from where it stood.

"What's going on?" The voice of Lockhart sounded. He was awakened by the beast falling. The Basilisk reared up suddenly and started flicking its tongue, trying to sniff them out. "MERLIN'S BEARD!"

"Lockhart, you fucking idiot." Harry snarled as the Basilisk came their way. Thinking on his feet, he flicked his wand at his professor, banishing him at the serpent. Lockhart sailed through the air and smacked into its nose, causing it to cry out in surprise. Before Lockhart could fall to the ground the Basilisk had him in its mouth, crushing him with its powerful jaws.

Harry started laughing at Lockhart's shrill, pained scream. Riddle was staring at Harry in horror. "I have to get one of these as a pet..."

While the beast was distracted, Harry looked down at the hat he was holding. He realized quickly that it was the Sorting Hat. Acting on a whim, he shoved his arm inside and came into contact with something metal. Grasping it with his left hand, he pulled it out, smirking at the silver sword he'd discovered, its hilt covered in large rubies the size of eggs. On the blade the words 'Godric Gryffindor' were inscribed.

"Well... this is nice and all but I don't need it." Pointing his wand at the Basilisk with his right arm, he cast the killing curse. It dropped to the ground in an instant, dead. It was a shame really...

"WHAT!" Riddle roared. "You... you used... what?"

Harry turned to him with a sick smile twisting his face. "The killing curse. Yes I did."

"But... but..." He stared at him gob-smacked.

Harry eyed the diary Riddle was carrying with interest. "So that's how I kill you then?" He said, gesturing to the diary with his new sword. Riddle immediately fazed out of sight, taking the diary with him. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nice trick."

"You'll never find me before I drain the girl. It's all over! Soon I'll have my body back and you'll be no match for me."

"Really..." Harry drawled, stalking over to the body of Ginny Weasley. "Let's see about that." Pocketing his wand, he grasped the hilt with both hands and raised it above his head. "What if I do this?"

"NO!"

Harry smirked before bringing the sword down on the girl's neck, severing her head clean from her shoulders. A loud screeching met his ears and he turned to see Tom Riddle explode in a shower of light. The diary fluttered to the ground where Harry sent a fireball at it, turning it to ashes, completely destroying the memory.

Looking down at Ginny's decapitated corpse, he smiled. Blood was pooling around her body in large amounts as her heart continued to beat. A few minutes later it stopped completely. He noticed that her eyes were open, staring at him blankly. He laughed.

"Two birds with one stone. It must be my lucky day." Aiming his wand, he incinerated her body as he cackled insanely before turning towards the exit. He was tired and needed a good nights sleep. This was definitely a night to remember.

Fawkes watched as he left, Gryffindor's sword gleaming with blood, cackling evilly about how Ron's reaction would be. It shook its head in amusement before vanishing in a ball of flames.


	4. Pyro Harry and the Prisoner of Azkaban

**Authors Notes: **This scene takes place during chapter 16, 17 and 18 of the Prisoner of Azkaban. Expect more fire!

-x-**X**-x-

"Ron, could you please shut that rat up?" Harry asked dryly, eying the disgusting creature in the youngest Weasley male's hands as they slowly headed back towards the castle. Ron was about to reply when the voices behind them went silent and the three of them heard the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe. Buckbeak was no more...

"Pity... I actually liked the creature." Harry murmured to himself. Hermione seemed to sway on her feet, looking as if she was about to faint.

"They did it!" She whispered to Harry. "I d-don't believe it – they did it!" Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Of course they did it." He snapped. "What do you think they were going to do? Just stand around and watch it?" His eye twitched as Scabbers, Ron's rat, started screeching loudly. "Ron, shut it up before I do!"

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest. The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper into his pocket. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still – OUCH! He bit me!"

"Ron, be quiet!" Hermione whispered urgently. "Fudge'll be out here in a minute-"

"You think?" Harry muttered sarcastically.

"But he won't – stay – still-"

Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break Ron's grip. Harry's irritation faded and turned to amusement when he saw what was causing the rat so much distress. Crookshanks was slinking towards them, his body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the darkness. Whether it was following them or following the sounds of Scabbers squeaks, he couldn't tell.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty..." Harry cooed softly, grinning evilly at Ron's horrified face. The red haired boy hated the cat with a passion.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned, which Harry found strangely erotic. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

"Here kitty, kitty-"

"Stop encouraging him Harry!" She snapped in anger, rounding on him. Harry shrugged innocently, smirking at her. His eyebrow arched when she broke out in a blush.

"Scabbers – NO!" Ron cried.

The rat had slipped through his clutching fingers, hit the ground and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Hermione could stop him, Ron pelted away into the darkness of the night.

"_Ron!_" She moaned. "Come on Harry."

"What?" He asked, turning towards the castle. "Leave him on his own, he'll be fine."

"Hurry up you big jerk." She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and started pulling him off in the direction Ron had went. He couldn't be bothered arguing so he went peacefully, taking out his new Zippo lighter, flicking its lid open and shut with loud metal clicks. He'd been doing this all year, getting on the nerves of many students and professors, but mainly Hermione's.

She started running as fast as she could, pulling Harry along like a dog on a leash. They could hear Ron's footfalls ahead of them as he shouted at Hermione's cat. Harry wondered if Ron would actually strangle the fur ball if it got his stinky rat.

"Get away from him – get away – Scabbers, come _here-_" This was followed by a loud thump, the sound of a person hitting the deck. "_Gotcha!_ Get off, you stinking cat-"

Hermione nearly fell over Ron, pulling Harry along with her as they skidded to a halt right in front of him. However he was able to keep them both on their feet with a loud grunt of effort. Ron was sprawled out on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tightly over the quivering lump.

"Ron – come on – we have to go-" Hermione panted. "Dumbledore – the Minister – they'll be coming back out in a minute-"

But before Ron could even get to his feet, before Ron and Hermione could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding towards them out of the dark – an enormous, bear-like, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. A dog Harry was very familiar with having seen it after he left the Dursley's before the school year began.

Harry knew he couldn't reach his wand in time so instead flexed his hands into fists, the two erupting in bright, red-hot flames. Hermione nearly screamed when she saw what he had done, never having seen anything like it. Ron gaped at him like a goldfish.

Flinging his arms out in front of him, it was too late as the dog launched itself at him with an enormous leap, its front paws pounding against his chest. He keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair, the fire on his hands rocketing out into the sky like fireworks having lost his aim, exploding with a bright flash similar to that of a muggle flare. He snarled in irritation as he felt its hot breath on his face, saw inch long teeth glinting in the moon light centimeters away.

The force of its leap was too much however, carrying it too far, its momentum rolling it off him, dazed. Feeling as if his ribs were broken, Harry tried to get to his feet; he could hear its growling as it skirted around for its next attack.

Ron was now on his feet, trying to produce his wand while keeping Scabbers in his pocket. As the dog sprang toward them for its second go, Harry's hands blazed as well as his eyes. He was pissed off.

"Fuck you!" He roared, bringing his two hands together and firing a large, bright red fireball. The dog evaded it mostly; the better part of the attack smashing into a large rock a few meters away and exploding in hellish fury, but the flames clipped its tail end, burning the hair straight off its body and attacking the skin, making it blister. It yelped loudly in pain but continued coming, slamming Harry out of the way with the force of a truck. His head snapped back as he fell, grunting in pain as the dog leapt at Ron.

Its jaws latched onto the boy's outstretched arm and started pulling him away like a rag doll. Harry went to go after the creature when he was smacked in the face with something hard, catching him off guard and flinging him back a few feet. He heard Hermione scream in pain as she fell to the ground, too. Blinking the blood out of his eyes, he looked up, being able to see the outline of the Whomping Willow.

Narrowing his eyes, he saw Ron being pulled down a hole at the base of its trunk. They were out of sight in a second.

"Harry – we've got to go for help-" Hermione cried; she was bleeding too. The willow had cut her across the shoulder, it didn't look deep.

"We don't need help." Harry said calmly, getting to his feet.

"We're never going to get through without help!" A branch whipped down at him, its twigs clenched like a knuckle. It missed Harry's face by inches but he didn't as much as flinch.

"Yes we will." He said with a strange gleam in his eyes. Looking down at his right hand he found that his Zippo lighter was ruined. Throwing it to the side, he looked up at the willow and smirked dangerously. Hermione shivered upon seeing the look he was giving the tree. Aiming his right hand at the swaying animated tree, he turned his arm, palm facing up, and positioned his fingers as if he was about to click them.

"Burn!" He snarled, clicking his fingers together with a loud snap. A bolt of fire lanced furiously from his hand and struck the willow with immense force, nearly blowing the thing out of the ground. The tree whipped around franticly as the fire covered its entire surface. Harry was sure it'd shriek if it could. The fire was quickly turning the smaller branches to charred pieces of useless wood.

"Mwuahahahahahahahaha!" He started laughing hysterically, putting even more power into the flames streaming from his outstretched hand. Hermione stared at him in horror. His eyes were glowing eerily in the firelight, his pale skin no longer holding that sickly tinge it normally held. It was like he was in his element, at his happiest when he was destroying things with fire. "You like that?" He cried insanely, finally lowering his hand. The tree continued to frail madly as it continued to burn, lighting the area as if it were daylight hours. "Yeah, take that bitch."

"H-H-Harry?" Hermione asked timidly, staring at her friend uncertainly, never having seen something like that before. He eyed her out the corner of his eyes and smirked at her as his laughter died down. The scared look she was giving him made him feel powerful and he loved it.

"Ladies first." He said, gesturing towards the hole under the burning trunk. Even if he didn't think she was a particularly attractive female, she was nevertheless one... unless she was hiding a lot more than expected under those robes.

"The tree's on fire!" She yelled, pointing at it. Harry just smirked wider.

"Oh, you noticed?" She stared at him incredulously. "Well, as you can see there is no fire near the base... so move it!" Nodding numbly, she slowly made her way over the burning tree, lowering herself into the hole and out of sight. Pulling out his wand, he aimed it at the trunk and cast his strongest exploding curse. The tree shuddered as the pale blue beam struck it before exploding viciously, the wood splintering and flying all around the clearing. The top half of the tree swayed for a few moments from the shockwaves before toppling over backwards, crashing to the ground with an echoing boom.

Satisfied with his work, he quickly followed Hermione's example and went down the hole. He met her half way down; she looked to be coming back up the slope.

"What are you doing?" He asked in annoyance.

"What was that noise?" She asked him, her voice trembling, ignoring his question completely.

"Nothing, now move. Do you want to see what that dog is up to or not?" Nodding, she slid back down, Harry following. At the bottom they both lit their wands so they could see. They looked to be in a small, rocky tunnel.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked in a terrified voice.

"This way; now come on." He muttered, setting off, bent backed. The tunnel wasn't very high, as if was made for a bloody dwarf.

"Where does this tunnel come out?" She sounded breathless and was now holding his left hand, startling him. He frowned at the contact and clenched his fist slightly, causing it to flare for a second, lightly scorching her hand. She hissed, drawing back quickly, cradling her burnt palm. She glared at him but he continued on as if nothing happened.

"The Shrieking Shack." He answered after a few minutes silence as the tunnel began to rise after a long walk. Moments later it twisted and Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening. They both paused for a second before edging forward, their wands out in front of them, his no longer shining wand light, to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty – and to Harry's glee – flammable room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody, or something, had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up like a fort.

Harry pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room was completely deserted, but a door on his right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. The door was barely hanging on by its hinges, looking as if it was going to fall at any moment. Hermione followed him out and immediately latched onto his arm again to his irritation, her wide eyes scanning the boarded windows.

Harry eyes landed on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks were torn out of it; one of its legs being ripped of entirely. His eyebrow arched and she gave him an inquisitive look.

"Ghosts didn't do that..." He said slowly, quickly returning his eyes to the door.

At that moment, there was a creak overhead. Something, or more specifically someone, had moved upstairs. Both of them looked up at the ceiling, Hermione warily, Harry with curiosity. Hermione's grip on his arm was so great he was starting to loose feeling in his fingers. He raised his eyebrows at her in question.

"Hermione..." He said softly, his breath brushing over her cheeks. She turned towards him and blushed a bright shade of pink.

"Yes?" She asked, just as softly. Harry's eyes widened in shock at the look in her eyes that were boring into his own, feeling a little disgusted. The twit... she... he felt as if he was going to faint at the horror of it all. She had a...

"Let go." He said, pulling his arm away quickly, turning towards the hallway. She blushed even harder, thinking his obvious disgust was only him being shy.

Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust except the floor, where a wide, shiny stripe had been made by something being dragged upstairs. They quickly reached a dark landing.

Hermione extinguished her wand light as they both crept towards the only open door. As they neared, they heard movement behind it and a low moan of pain. Wand held lazily between his fingers, he kicked the door open before Hermione could stop him, calmly striding into the room, his female acquaintance following in his wake.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Ron, clutching his bloody arm as well as trying to keep Scabbers still. Hermione dashed across to him immediately while Harry watched in boredom.

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione asked, concerned at the amount of blood coming from his arm, drenching the old bed sheets. Harry, however, felt that was unimportant and asked a different question.

"Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," He moaned, clutching his arm tighter. Scabbers was still trying to bolt as he grit his teeth. "Harry, it's a trap-"

"What-"

"He's the dog... _he's an animagus_..."

Ron was staring behind Harry, over his shoulder. Harry wheeled around as the door snapped shut, revealing a human lurking in the shadows.

A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. The waxy skin stretched so tightly over the bones of his face that it looked like a skull. His yellow and somewhat uneven teeth were bared in a grin. The man's left hip was badly burnt, the skin red and blistered from Harry's attack. It was Sirius Black.

"_Expelliarmus._" He croaked, pointing Ron's wand at them. Harry's and Hermione's wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer, his filthy tattered robes barely hanging from his thin frame. His eyes were fixed on Harry.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," He said hoarsely. His voice sounded as though he had long ago lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you, not to call for a teacher. I'm grateful... it will make everything so much easier..." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Well, come on then." Sirius stared at him blankly. "Well? Are you going to try and kill me or what?"

"Harry, no! What are you doing?" Hermione screamed at him. He just gave her a look that clearly told her to shut her mouth now, or he'd do it for her.

Before anyone else could talk muffled footsteps echoed up through the floor from downstairs – someone was down there.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly, causing Harry to snarl at her annoyance, his eyes flashing dangerously. "WE'RE UP HERE – SIRIUS BLACK – _QUICK_!"

Black looked terrified as he tried to run, his weak body tripping over a piece of wood that had been placed in the center of the room. He hit the ground hard, swearing in surprise as footsteps thundered up the staircase. The door burst open in a shower of red sparks as Professor Lupin came hurdling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, laying on the floor, over Hermione, who was cowering by the door, to Harry, who was standing tall, smirking at him, and over Black, who was sprawled on the floor, a small cloud of dust hovering around him.

After making sure everything was in order, he slowly turned towards Black. "Where is he, Sirius?" He asked in an odd voice, a voice that shook with suppressed emotion. Harry eyed Lupin out the corner of his eyes, wondering what was happening. Who was Lupin talking about? His eye's focused back on Black, who was slowly getting to his feet.

His face was expressionless. For a few moments he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed it towards Ron. Harry frowned as he looked towards Ron, who was staring at Black in bewilderment.

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it was as if he was trying to read his mind. "...why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless-" Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "- unless _he_ was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

Very slowly, his gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor..." Harry drawled, slightly baffled at what was happening. "What is going-"

He never got to finish his sentence as he arched his eyebrows in surprise, shocked when Lupin lowered his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black's side and embraced him like a brother. Ron made a strangled gasp of surprise as Hermione seemed to start hyperventilating.

"That was unexpected." Harry deadpanned, staring at the both of them strangely.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screeched from behind him.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to face her. She had raised herself off the floor, and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. It looked quite disturbing in Harry's opinion, like a beaver with some type of mental disorder. "You – you -"

"Hermione-"

"-you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down-"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked, Harry's eye twitching as his head started throbbing. "I've been covering up for you-"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin shouted. "I can explain-"

"You've been Black's friend all this time?" Harry interjected. "Pity, you were my favorite teacher." He started rubbing his hands together gleefully, not noticing Sirius and Ron blanching. They both knew what was coming. His eyes shinned with a strange inner light, his hands gaining a faint golden hue.

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "I haven't been Sirius' friend for twelve years, but now I am... let me explain..."

"NO!" Hermione screamed again. It was really starting to annoy Harry. He felt like stuffing a firecracker in her mouth and lighting it. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black into the castle, he wants you dead too – _he's a werewolf_."

A deafening silence fell over the group as Lupin paled, but looked relatively calm despite what was just revealed. It was broken by Harry snorting, loudly, having stopped rubbing his hands together.

"Oh really Hermione, how long did it take you to figure that out?" Hermione stared at him in confusion.

"What?"

"I've known since October..." He said dryly. "It's kinda hard not to miss the pattern even after only two months. He was away on both nights of the full moon." She, along with everyone else was gaping at him. "Well... come on then. Why are you hugging the man who betrayed my parents?"

"He didn't betray your parents." Lupin recovered. Harry nodded slowly.

"Impossible!" Ron burst out before being silenced by Harry's glare.

"So... who really betrayed my parents?" He asked, turning back towards his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Peter Pettigrew." Sirius spoke up. Harry again nodded slowly.

"He's supposed to be dead but fair enough..."

"He's an animagus, he isn't dead." Lupin explained. "He takes the form of a rat." As soon as he finished, Harry whirled towards Ron.

"Hand over Scabbers, Ron." He commanded, having put everything together. Ron stared at him in horror. Harry was surprised; his pea sized brain had actually worked it out.

"What? Harry! You don't honestly believe-" He was cut off by the sound of Scabbers screeching as it sailed through the air towards Sirius, the Azkaban escapee having just performed a summoning charm. Lupin snatched the creature out of the air with inhuman reflexes, holding it tightly but not enough to hurt it... yet. "Scabbers, no!"

"Can I have my wand back now?" Harry asked, holding his hand out towards Sirius. The convict nodded and handed all three teens back their wands. Harry quickly flicked his towards the rat and it began to expand into something larger. Lupin dropped it in surprise and everyone watched as Ron's rat became Peter Pettigrew. Harry smirked devilishly.

"Sirius – Remus..." The man said shakily before he started screaming in agony, rolling from side to side, his tatted robes aflame. Sirius, Lupin, Ron and Hermione watched in shocked horror as Harry laughed darkly.

"Burn you stupid piece of shit!" He cackled, controlling the flames so the rest of the shack didn't catch. "I'm going to make hell seem like a tea party!"

"Potter!" A new voice from the door called. "What are you doing?"

The man, known as Severus Snape, didn't get a chance to move as a large fireball impacted against his chest, flinging him out of the doorway and over the flimsy railing, crashing to old wooden floor beneath. He shrieked like a little girl as his robes flared with flames, painfully licking at his pale skin. It wasn't long before his greasy hair caught alight as well, incasing his head in red, hot flames. As the man rolled around on the floor, the fire from his robes started leaking off onto the old rugs and chairs.

"Harry, stop this!" Lupin yelled. Harry was in the zone, however, and didn't even hear him.

"Burn. Burn! BURN!"

"_Stupefy._" A red jet of light rocketed out of Remus' wand, aimed directly at Harry's chest. Noticing the incoming spell, Harry moved to his left, the spell missing him by inches and hitting Ron in the face, stunning him. Harry spun, his arms held out wide around him as fire spewed out, setting the shack ablaze, one such ball striking Sirius in the gut, blasting him through one of the weak walls surrounding the room. Hermione's screams of pain joined Snape's and Pettigrew's as her bushy main caught alight. She fumbled with her wand, trying to put her hair out but it was no good, she was in too much pain. She started rolling around on the floor as her clothes also caught.

"Harry, stop this n-" Lupin didn't get much further as he was also incased in flames, Harry having got sick and tired of the man's voice. Harry laughed uproariously as the shack burnt down around him, Snape's screams cutting off first as one of the support beams fell, giving way to the burning element of fire. It crushed the man head, splattering his brains all over the floor, putting him out of his misery.

Next was Hermione, who had been flailing around on the floor like an eel out of water. She wasn't able to take the pain, her blistering skin melting from her bones being too much to handle.

Surprising, Lupin was next, flinging himself through one of the boarded up windows and falling to his death. Harry would have though the werewolf would have known the house was perched near a cliff but the pain must have blocked out all rational thoughts.

Smirking sardonically, he looked down at the pathetic, charred form of Peter Pettigrew. Amazingly, the little shit of a rat was still alive. The man was now completely without hair, the flames having removed what little he had left, his robes were no more, completely turned to ashes though Harry spotted small fragments that had melted to his body, and his skin was grossly warped, blistered, covered in puss and blood. It was a gruesome sight to behold.

Glancing at Ron's unconscious form that had surprisingly not been harmed by the fire, he smiled as he clapped his hands together. His body started glowing orange, not just his hands like normal. "Let's go out with a bang boys."

In the town of Hogsmeade, its residents paused as a large explosion rocked the ground, followed by a large ball of fire erupting from the Shrieking Shack, destroying the old building completely.


	5. Pyro Harry and the Goblet of Fire

**Authors Notes: **This ficlet contains scenes from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I'm sure you'll enjoy this. Harry Potter versus Dragon... I know you all saw this coming.

More fire! And since Goblet was fairly long... I might, if your good little reader, do another chapter to cover another scene in the book. Only if your good little boys and girls though.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry yawned, extremely bored as he slowly picked at his lunch. He wasn't very hungry, the excitement of coming events making his stomach too unstable to accept food. Just if he had someone to converse with, even Weasley or Granger would do, at least they kept him mildly entertained. They weren't speaking to him though, him being an 'attention seeking-prat' among other things.

He was about to get up and leave, maybe burn a classroom or two for fun, or perhaps harass Peeves, when he saw Professor McGonagall hurrying towards him, a grim look set upon her face. The other students in the Great Hall were watching her closely as she approached him. He knew what this was about. It was time for the First Task.

"Potter, the champions have to come into the grounds now... you have to get ready for your first task." Harry slowly stood, dusting his robes slightly, his uneaten lunch forgotten.

"Okay." He answered, stepping over the bench and following the Deputy Headmistress out of the hall and out onto the vast Hogwarts grounds. Looking to the side, he noticed she looked very anxious. She suddenly stopped causing him to halt as well as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He held back the urge to shrug it off. He really disliked people touching him unless it was with someone he 'liked' and in ways he'd never dream of with the old biddy.

"Now, don't panic... just keep a cool head... we've got wizards on hand to control the situation if it gets out of hand... the main thing is just do your best, and nobody will think any worse of you... are you alright." Harry nodded and smirked at her. She blinked in surprise.

"I'm fine. This'll be fun." She stared at him in horror but continued walking; taking him towards where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in there with the other champions," McGonagall said in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mister Bagman is in there... he'll be telling you the – the procedure... good luck." Harry rolled his eyes at the normally composed teacher.

"Yeah, okay, thanks." She left him then at the entrance of the tent. He turned and entered, pulling out his Zippo liter as he went.

Fleur Delacour, the sexy Veela minx herself, was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy, looking depressed. Regardless, Harry winked at her all the same as he'd been doing all year. He grinned as she brightened a little, probably gaining a little confidence from his own. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Harry felt he was a younger, tamer version of Snape, without the greasy hair and hooked nose of course. Cedric was pacing up and down, fidgeting with his robes. When Harry entered, he gave him a small smile which Harry didn't return.

"Harry! Good-oh!" Bagman said happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home."

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown muggle cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again. Harry felt he'd look good as a human torch.

"Well, now we're all here – time to fill you in!" Bagman crowed loudly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" – he held up a small sack of purple silk, and shook at it at them. The others looked alarmed when a puff of smoke escaped it – "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different – er – varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes... your task is to _collect the golden egg!_"

Harry glanced at the others. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. Harry just flicked the metal lid of his liter open and closed it with a loud steely click.

In no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, and joking. Harry wondered if they already knew what the tasks were going to involve.

He spied the other champions as they entered their on little words. He continued to open and close his Zippo's lid, fully aware that it was unnerving Bagman slightly. It wasn't long before the patter of feet died off. It was then that the purple sack was held out, open for anyone to reach in.

"Ladies first." Bagman said, offering it to Fleur.

She reached out a shaking hand, obviously nervous and jumped violently as his liter lid snapped closed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before plunging her hand inside, drawing out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon – a Welsh Green. It had the number 'two' around its neck. She didn't look surprised but Harry already knew why; Madam Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number 'three' around its neck. He didn't even blink, just stared at the ground. His head jerked up in surprise though when Harry once again snapped the lid closed on his Zippo.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-grey Swedish Short-Snout, the number 'one' tied around its neck. Knowing what was left and feeling oddly giddy about it; Harry reached in and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number 'four'. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it with a strange gleam in his eyes, it baring its minuscule fangs in a snarl.

"Well, there you are!" The annoying cartoon looking wasp said. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the other in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mister Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear the whistle, all right? Now... Harry... could I have a quick work? Outside?"

He wasn't paying attention, his eyes still locked on the tiny dragon. They were glassy as he muttered about cocktails or something, which confused Bagman greatly. What was the boy doing thinking about a muggle drink? He'd have had a heart attack if he really knew what he was thinking.

"Harry? Come on Harry, are you in there?"

"What?" Harry snapped, his eyes coming back into focus as he pocketed the small model.

"Could I have a quick word?"

"No." Harry answered dryly, playing with his liter again. He noticed the other champions were starting to get annoyed at its noise. Cedric's eye twitched a few times and Fleur trembled with each click.

"Ah, well, okay." Bagman mumbled before leaving the champions alone. It was long before the whistle sounded and Cedric left. Harry was nearly bursting with built up excitement. He would have bounced on the spot if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. Seconds later they heard a roar from the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure, and was now face to face with the living counter part of his model.

"So, who's looking forward to the task?" He asked brightly. He got two incredulous stares back. "What?"

"How can you be so calm?" Fleur exploded, her eyes filled with fear. Harry shrugged.

"It'll be fun. I've always wanted to meet a dragon... well, I did in first year but it was only a baby so..." He trailed off as they continued to stare at him. "What?"

The crowd suddenly screamed, cutting off whatever Fleur was about to say. They yelled and gasped as if they were one, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Short-Snout. Krum had returned to staring at the ground and Fleur had taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent. Harry went back to playing with his Zippo.

Fifteen minutes later the air was filled with a deafening roar, the crowd going crazy. Cedric had obviously pasted the test and got the golden egg. Bagman was screaming something but Harry didn't bother to listen. The whistle sounded soon after and Fleur slowly left the tent, shaking but head held high. Harry gave her a wink as she walked by, earning him a small smile in return.

The same process started again with the crowd screaming, yelling and gasping as one. Bagman was adding his comments every now and then, spicing it up. Krum had taken to twiddling his thumbs, an act that Harry found most amusing as it was such an unlikely thing to see him do. Ten minutes later the crowd erupted once more, Fleur having been successful. The whistle blew again after the scores were shown and Krum left the tent, being introduced by the over enthusiastic commentator.

Alone, Harry pocketed his Zippo and clapped his hands together, a ball of flames coming into existence. He cupped his hands around it, getting a feel for the flames and the magic that weaved it. He needed to be completely focused. He was excited, yes, but he knew this would be anything but a walk in the park. Dragon's were not to be taken lightly.

"_Come on Harry, this is it, a worthy adversary."_

When he opened his eyes he realized it was because the whistle had sounded; it was his turn already. Marching out of the tent, he walked past the trees and though a gap in the enclosure fence.

Harry looked around at the hundreds of faces staring at him unflinchingly before striding towards the Horntail that was in the middle, crouched low over her eggs, her wings half furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard, rocky ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise but whether friendly or not he didn't know as he was too busy focusing on the dragon, not caring about the people.

"Holy shit..." He muttered, "She's a lot bigger than I thought."

The Horntail roared loudly, nearly blowing out his eardrums at the sound. Its tail lashed out at him, coming a mere meter from hitting him. When it impacted against the ground a volley of debris sprayed towards him. He lazily covered his head with his arm as the dirt covered his black robes.

"Okay, let's do this." He said, bracing his feet and clapping his hand together, a habit he'd gotten from who knows where. The dragon roared again but then time a long, red hot glowing jet of fire lanced towards him at incredible speeds. Focusing, his hands burst into flames, the air around him distorting as waves of heat rolled off his body. He didn't register the gasps of surprise from the crowd.

Just before the dragons attack got him, his hands shot forward, palms out. The stream of fire impacted on his hands and seemed to be absorbed, straight into his body. No mater how much kept coming at him, it continued to vanish within him. He was sweating profoundly from the heat and strain of using his magic like this. Eventually, the attack lessened before it stopped completely. Harry gave the dragon a smug look as it looked at him, slightly shocked. The ground between him and the lizard was charred black.

The crowd was completely still, completely silent. The cliché of a pin dropping occurred before the noise returned, the people going absolutely bonkers over what they'd just seen. The Horntail was far from finished, however, and far from impressed. If possible, she seemed more pissed off than before, tail bashing the ground wildly with so much force it was cracking under the pressure. Harry felt like gaping at it as in continued to pound the ground as if throwing some sort of hissy fit.

"That'd be right," Harry muttered sarcastically, recovering slightly. "Give me the dragon that's having its rags, he'll be able to handle himself no problem, he's the great Boy-Who-Lived after all."

Baring its teeth, it charged, its tail lifting up high above its body before shooting towards him like an arrow. He dived to the right just in time, rolling back to his feet in one swift movement. That's when the second stream of fire came at him, so quickly that he had no time to focus enough to pull off the same technique as before. Instead, he gathered his magic and fire, lashing out violently, his own stream of burning hell colliding head on with the dragons, causing a minor explosion as they hit. The battle of power was on.

He stumbled back a few steps before leveling himself, leaning forward and bent his knees slightly. His arms were vibrating from the strain, his muscles rock hard, veins pulsing as he tried to repel the attack with his own.

In the centre where the fire met, strings of flame were lashing out in every direction, looking similar to that of the solar flares on the sun. It looked like a vortex of fire, swirling and compressing, wanting to erupt, explode, destroy everything in its path. He was sweating even more now, the heat becoming unbearable, even for him. The heat waves were so great that even the crowd was starting to stand up and back away, fearing what was happening before them.

The Horntail suddenly took a step forward, albeit a small one, seemingly struggling itself, its claws digging into the rock hard floor. This put even more strain on the pair of them, the centre compressing even more, becoming more unstable. He grunted in pain, his arms felt like they were going to fall off but he focused and pushed more power, the fire leaving his body faster, harder, pushing against that of the dragon. If he could keep this up he knew he would win, like this the dragon couldn't breathe, it was a matter of time before it had to stop.

The scent of burnt material filling his heated nostrils, he looked down to see his robes disintegrating in front of his eyes. Looking towards the vortex, he had to look away immediately, it was too bright. Clenching them shut, he screamed as he forced everything he could into his fire as he felt the dragon do the same, giving everything they had.

All of a sudden it exploded outwards, the blast so powerful it ripped apart the stands like they were toothpicks despite the magic that was supposed to prevent such a thing with force alone. The people in the stands were flung from the enclosure and over the trees, landing on the smoothly cut lawns of the grounds, debris falling all around them. The fire scorched everything within a hundred meters, turning everything into charcoal, the trees just outside the flames radius were uprooted, many ending up in the great lake, the others littering the grounds.

All that remained of the enclosure was a smoldering crater, Harry and the Horntail no where to be found.


	6. Pyro Harry and the Order of the Phoenix

**Authors Notes:** This chapter will be taking place during the time Harry and friends are in the Department of Mysteries, while he is inspecting the veil.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry frowned in annoyance as he looked the swaying veil over for the fifth time in as many minutes. Something about it gave him the creeps, which was strange in itself considering what he had seen in his short life. He could hear voices behind it, yet from where he had no idea. The strange thing was, only he and Luna could hear them. When he asked about it, Hermione looked at him like he was demented. She was lucky he couldn't be bothered frying her arse on the spot.

"Harry, come on!" The aforementioned girl hissed. Harry's lips twitched, wanting to pull back in a snarl.

"Calm the fuck down you prude." The glare she sent him was not pretty. "Jesus – Okay, I'm coming. Keep your skirt on."

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned his back on the creepy piece of cloth hanging between the old stone arch and marched towards the others. He was amused to note that all of them seemed scared shitless for some reason, probably to do with the veil. Only Luna was unaffected, though she was staring at it with a strange gleam in her wide eyes.

Rounding the dais, Harry fingered his wand as they approached the lowest stone bench, clambering up to the door they used to enter.

"What do you think that arch was?" Ron asked as they reentered the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous." Hermione answered, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

"That's not exactly helpful." Harry said, eying his companions. "Everything in this bloody place is dangerous."

The bookworm huffed as the wall begun to spin once more, moving at an impressive speed before coming to a stand still. Ron, impatient as always, picked a random door and tried to move through it, gripping the handle while ramming it with his shoulder. He bounced right off, landing on his arse. Luna couldn't help but giggle as he flushed red.

"You alright, Ron?" Neville asked, pulling the ginger haired boy to his feet.

"Fine." He muttered, ears red as Ginny joined Luna in giggling. Harry sighed tiredly.

"So, it's locked. Let's move on, shall we?" He said.

"Wait, this could be it, Harry! You can't just skip it."

"The door in his dream was unlocked, Ronald. Use your head." The wall began to spin again, the doors blurring together at its speed.

"You know what might be in there!" Luna said eagerly, eyes unfocused.

"Something blithering, no doubt," Hermione muttered. Harry quirked an eyebrow in her direction but said nothing as the wall finally came to a stop. Stepping forward, Harry raised his wand and quickly threw open the door. He knew it was the same room from his dreams immediately by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry's eyes become accustomed to the brilliant glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like a thousand of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

"This is it." He told them, strolling into the room and leading them down a narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, towards the source of light. As he neared the crystal bell jar, he, as the rest, noticed a billowing, glittering wind within. Harry was faintly reminded of a snow globe.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been brought back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed in its egg once more.

"Come on, hurry up." He snapped as Ginny looked as if she were going to stop and watch it again.

"You dawdled en-" She stopped at the murderous stare he sent her way, his left hand twitching violently. She swore she could see sparks coming from the tips of his fingers but just as fast as they had appeared, they vanished. Knowing she got the message, he turned and continued.

Following his lead, they trailed him to the only door behind the bell and entered.

They were there, they had found the place: high as church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glittered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold, something Harry disliked immensely. He felt the urge to light one of the shelves up for warmth but held back, not wanting to start a ruckus.

Instead, he edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two shelves. He could not hear anymore, nor could he see anything move. Muttering swear words, he clenched his left fist a few seconds before releasing it, a small ball of silver fire hovering above his palm, similar to the one Remus Lupin used before his third year.

"You said it was row ninety-seven." Hermione whispered as she crept behind him, not noticing his impressive feat of magic.

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Hermione glared a hole in the back of his head. How she hated sarcasm, especially from him. Harry smirked slightly before checking the end of the shelf. He could make out the number fifty-three.

"We need to go right, I think..." Luna voiced, startling Hermione by her sudden proximity. "Yes, that's fifty-four..."

"Right, let's go." Harry said, going in the direction Luna said. He stopped every now and then to check the numbers of the shelves but other than that, they kept a steady pace. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each of the glass orbs; all containing what looked to be initials and either the names of people or places. Some of the orbs had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

They continued onwards until finally they happened across ninety-seven. Harry snuffed the fire in his hands and stared down the alley, expecting to find his godfather. No one was there.

"I don't understand..." He started but then stopped, thinking intently. The others spread out, wands at the ready, searching a few of the nearby aisles. They were all as empty as the one he was looking at. "Where the bloody hell is he?"

"Harry..." Hermione started.

"The dream has been right so far... so what the fuck is going on?" He muttered with irritation clearly lacing his words.

"Harry!"

"It must have been all a lie... but why? Why would he wan-"

"Har-"

"What do you want?" He snapped, rounding on the bushy haired girl. "Don't you ever shut your fucking gob? Merlin's Beard!"

"Well excu-"

Harry flicked his wand at her before she could finish, silencing her. "Your excused, now shut _up_."

"Harry!" Ron called, a strange tone in his voice. Harry rolled his eyes, biting his tongue from shouting out. Hermione was giving him the dirtiest look he had ever seen, which calmed him down somewhat, amused. Luna was staring at the silenced girl with a faint smile on her face. He wasn't exactly sure where Ginny was but assumed she was with her brother.

"What is it, Ron?"

"Have you seen this?" He called again. Harry's interest was piped as he strode towards the youngest male Weasley. The ginger haired teen was staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the self.

"Seen what?" He asked, listening to the footsteps of the others behind him. He frowned as he heard one more set than there was supposed to be but didn't stop moving. He must have been hearing things...

"It's – got your name on it," Ron answered. Harry's frown deepened as he moved for a closer look. Ron was pointing at the small glass sphere he had been staring at a few moments before that glowed with a dull inner light. It was very dusty and appeared to have not been touched in many a year.

"My name?" He asked blankly.

Nudging the taller boy out of the way, Harry had to crane his neck slightly to get a good look at the old label affixed to the shelf under the dirty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previous, and below that:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter_

Harry stared at it.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

He glanced along the other labels on that stretch of shelf.

"I'm not here," He continued, sounding perplexed. "None of the rest are either."

It looked as if Hermione was going to say something but remembered she was still under the silencing charms effects. She glared at Harry and motioned for him to remove it. He ignored her and instead reached forward, his long fingers grasping the dusty surface of the glass ball. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as thought it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow from within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their long journey worthwhile after all. Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust. In his bones, Harry knew something was going to happen, he just knew it. He was right.

From right behind them, a drawling voice spoke, startling all but Harry.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinting through slits in their hoods, a dozen wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror.

"Lucius Malfoy." Harry spoke, smirking slightly as he turned around to face him.

"To me Potter," He repeated, holding out his arm, palm up. Harry's smirk grew wider.

"Where's Sirius?"

Several of the Death Eaters laughed; a harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

Harry knew immediately who he wanted to kill first.

"Always," The elder Malfoy echoed softly. "Now, give me the prophecy Potter."

Harry felt his companions shifting nervously beside him. "I want to know where Sirius is."

"_I want to know where Sirius is!_" The same woman mimicked. She and her Death Eaters had closed in so they were mere feet away from Harry and the others, the light from their wands reflecting off his glasses eerily. "_The wittle baby woke up jwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo;_" She continued in a mock baby voice. Harry felt Ron tense beside him.

"Calm down," Harry muttered. "Don't do anything yet..."

The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter.

"You hear him! _You hear him!_ Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!"

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," Malfoy said softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark-" He was interrupted by a snort.

"Me? Heroics? You have got to be fucking kidding me." Harry started chuckling as if it were the funniest thing in the world. The Death Eaters shifted uneasily at his uncaring attitude. "You crack me up, Malfoy. Really, you do! And here I thought your son was the clown of the family."

Malfoy tensed, his wand arm shaking ever so slightly but he didn't act. Harry thought as much. Bellatrix had now stepped forward, hood lowered, her pale gaunt face revealed for all to see. The insane glint in her eyes was a reminder of what Azkaban did to its inhabitants.

"Give us the prophecy, now!" Harry snorted again.

"I thought you were supposed to be the scary one, second only to the Dark Lord himself!" Harry said, his smirk fading into a real grin. "_Is the wittle old wady wosing her touch?_" He felt his 'friends' stiffen in horror and couldn't help but chuckle some more. The look of rage on the woman's face was amusing to say the least.

"_Accio-prophec-_" She started, channeling her rage into the casting of the summoning charm. Harry was about to shield himself and the glass orb when Malfoy smacked her hand out of the way, nearly dislodging her wand.

"NO! I TOLD YOU BEFORE! IF YOU SMASH IT WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN TO US!" Malfoy roared, ripping off his hood and glaring at the Azkaban escapee. Before she could resort, Harry spoke up.

"So, what kind of prophecy is this anyway?" He asked, giving the glass ball and hearty pat. Bellatrix looked at him as though he were speaking Japanese.

"What kind of prophecy?" She repeated. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," He answered, his eyes flickering from Death Eater to Death Eater, a plan formulating in his head. He could feel Neville trembling beside him, whether in rage or fear, he did not know. Whoever was standing directly behind him was breathing rapidly on his neck, making the hairs stand on end. He had a funny feeling it was Luna for some reason. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eater's let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix whispered. If it were possible, she looked more enraged than she did before.

"I dare," Harry answered, gripping the glass sphere tighter, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "I've got no problem with saying Vol-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood tongue, you dare-"

"Did you know he is a half-blood, too?" He interrupted, a smile gracing his features. Hermione gave a little moan of despair. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a muggle – or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

"_Stupefy!_"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy deflected it; his spell causing hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs shattered.

Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard of Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts. Harry paid them no mind and smirked at the two flustered head Death Eaters.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared – he dares-" Bellatrix shrieked incoherently. "He stands there – filthy half-blood-"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy bawled.

"You still haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," Harry asked, cutting off Bellatrix before she started again.

"Do not play games with us, Potter." Malfoy said.

"Do I look like I'm playing games with you, shit head?" The pureblood bristled at the insult.

"Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowls of the Department of Mysteries?" Malfoy sneered.

"My scar," Harry mused. "What about my scar?" While Malfoy began talking, Harry started gathering his magic like he did when manipulating fire, only this time he didn't release it, but kept it inside his hands, ready to be used. If one looked closely enough, one would see heat waves generating from his skin. The temperature went up a few degrees but no one noticed, other matters occupying their minds.

"Can this be?" Malfoy crowed, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again. "Dumbledore never told you?" He repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording..."

"Did he?" Harry asked. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"

"_Why?_" Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him."

"So, this is about the both of us, right?" At Malfoy's nod, he continued. Sweat was now poring off him as he gathered more magic and using his will alone to keep it under control. More observant people would have noticed he was sweating in a freezing room, but of course, they weren't all that observant. "Why didn't he get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" Bellatrix shrieked, again, over a cackle of laughter. It was starting to annoy Harry greatly, the shrieking bagpipe. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my cousin?"

"So, he has you doing his dirty work for him, has he? Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it – and Bode?"

"Very good, Potter, very good..." Malfoy said slowly. Harry's right eye twitched, his magic was becoming restless. It needed to be released. "But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell-"

"Fuck you, and the Dark Lord." Harry roared suddenly, throwing the orb he was currently holding back at Luna over his shoulder before slamming his palms together.

Fire exploded from his hands in a wide arch, the shockwave resulting from his magic colliding upon release lifting everything that was situated in front of the enraged teen from the ground and throwing it back at high speeds, the fire streaming closely behind. Glass balls containing various people's fates exploded from the force while the wooden shelves shattered upon impact against the far wall. The Death Eater's bones cracking against cold, unforgiving stone filled the room as they were hurdled into the same wall the shelves plowed into. That's when the screams started, as the flames of Harry's fury engulfed them, melting skin from bone, boiling the liquid of their eyes until they popped. A few were able to counter the flames with a water blasting spell, but the damage was done. There were only five Death Eaters left alive.

Lucius Malfoy was seeing red as he leveled his wand at Harry, snarling the incantation of the killing curse. The sheer speed the green lance of death moved at surprised the fire-loving boy, nearly catching him flat footed. Diving out of the way, he rolled to his feet while snatching one of the undamaged prophecy orbs that littered the ground around him, channeling fire into his fist that clutched the glass ball. When he felt the glass starting to give way to the flames, he acted, throwing the semi-melted glass at the proud pureblood, hitting him dead on in the face.

The glass, weakened considerably from the magical fire, warped upon impact, latching onto the blonds face similar to that of the suction cup. The scream of agony was music to Harry's ear as the Death Eater hit the deck, flopping around like a fish out of water as he clawed at the gooey molten substance attached to his face, burning his fingers but not caring in his attempt to stop the pain.

"Die!" Bellatrix screamed in rage, foaming crazily from the mouth. She was completely bald and half of her face was warped grossly, blood gushing from the wound. It was not a pretty sight.

Avoiding another killing curse, Harry cackled loudly as he clicked his fingers, a ball of flames launching at his opponent. Her robes caught the instant it hit, hurling her through the air into a far off shelf that hadn't been downed as of yet. Her life was ended as stacks upon stacks of shelves toppled on top of her, completely crushing the insane cousin of Sirius Black.

Turning, he faced the last remaining Death Eaters who were still trying to scramble to their feet. One was riddled with burns but was fighting through the pain, the thought of death dulling the pain as he tried to escape. The other two were relatively unharmed, either of their own doing or being lucky enough to be protected by another's body, he didn't know.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed his Zippo lighter and flicked the metal lid open before sparking the flint. The tiny flame came to life and he watched as it flickered with each breath he took.

"It's time for you guys to join your friends." With that said, he took a deep breath and blew on the flame. Instead of it going out, it streamed from the source, similar to that of a muggle flamethrower, seemingly fueled by the air coming out of his lungs. They didn't have a chance as they were turned to ashes in mere seconds, their screams of pain barely reaching a reasonable level.

With a healthy sounding click, the fire was snuffed, leaving a very satisfied Harry Potter and four of his friends vomiting all over the floor behind him, not being able to cope with the smell of burnt flesh. Luna, on the other hand, was staring at Harry with wide, glazed eyes, clutching the prophecy orb to her chest.


	7. Pyro Harry and the HalfBlood Prince

**Authors Notes: **This chapter will be taking place during the time Harry and Dumbledore visit the cave where Voldemort hid the locket Horcrux.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry grunted in annoyance as he rose from the freezing waters, his clothes soaked completely. He hated cold water more than anything. Having to swim through it wasn't his idea of fun. Closing his eyes, he flared his magic slightly and felt its warmth spread through his body and over his skin, giving him a light orange sheen as it took the shape of fire. It was gone as quick as it appeared, leaving him completely dry and more importantly, warm.

When he opened his eyes, Dumbledore was looking back at him with a strange expression on his face. Ignoring it, he made his way beside the older mage, peering at the cave walls around them. Taking his eyes off his younger partner, Dumbledore held his wand high in the air as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling closely. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but he could feel a strange sensation sweeping across his skin. It felt similar to his own magic, only not as hot.

"Yes, this is the place," Dumbledore said.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, having a fairly good idea how. Obviously, the place had magic and if he could feel it, no doubt the so-called greatest wizard alive could too.

"It has known magic," Dumbledore said simply. Harry watched Dumbledore revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see but only feel. "This is only the antechamber, the entrance hall," Dumbledore said after a moment or two. Harry rolled his eyes, holding his tongue between his teeth, keeping the desperate resort of 'Oh really?' unsaid. "We need to penetrate the inner place. Now it is only Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made."

Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his blackened fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that Harry did not understand, nor really cared enough to ask about. Twice Dumbledore walked right around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers backward and forward over a particular spot, until finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall. "Here," He said. "We go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Harry twitched at the elder once again stating the obvious. This time he didn't try hold his tongue as he said, "Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed."

Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock, ignoring the blatant sarcasm dripping from his voice. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack before disappearing. Dumbledore then stood completely still as he stared at the entrance intently, as if he were reading something carved into the rock. Harry was becoming increasingly bored but knew he could do nothing but watch. This wasn't his area of expertise. Blowing shit up was.

Then, after two solid minutes of watching, Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

Harry sighed tiredly. "What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think," said Dumbledore, putting his uninjured hand inside his robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind Harry used to chop potion ingredients, "That we are required to make payment to pass."

Harry stared at the knife held in the headmaster's hands. "Payment? Is it flesh? Or blood?" His voice sounded disturbingly eager. Dumbledore frowned at him but didn't comment on his tone of voice.

"You are correct. I said it was crude," said Dumbledore, who sounded disdainful, even disappointed, as though Voldemort had fallen short of higher standards Dumbledore expected. Harry found it rather arrogant of the light wizard to assume so much. "The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"Or you're underestimating him, just like he knew you would." Harry spoke up. Dumbledore was a bit irritated at the condescending tone his pupil was using but chose to ignore it, rolling his sleeve up. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet; the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops before Harry could blink. The old mans speed was impressive.

"Do you think I am underestimating him, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, passing the tip of his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly, just as Snape had healed Malfoy's wound earlier in the year when Harry had taken great pleasure in trying to disfigure the ponces face.

"I wouldn't have said it otherwise." Harry snapped. "I didn't expect you to be quite so arrogant. Of course, the saying 'power corrupts' does have merit, so it's understandable."

The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness. "After me, I think," Dumbledore said curtly, and he walked through the archway with Harry on his heels, lighting his own wand lazily as he went. He wasn't used to being talked to in such a way, and Harry had hardly any interaction with the man over the years. Dumbledore had only this year started to realize how much of a prick his little boy savior really was.

An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The darkness was somehow denser than normal darkness.

Harry groaned, slapping his forehead. "More water. This just keeps getting better and better."

"Let us walk," Dumbledore whispered quietly, ignoring Harry's seemingly random comment. "Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me." He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind him, grumbling about how he wasn't stupid enough to step in the water like a certain Weasley would. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow.

"So," Harry drawled. "Do you think the Horcrux is here?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore answered. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?"

"Couldn't we try a summoning charm? Maybe he forgot to ward against such a simple piece of magic."

"Certainly we could," Dumbledore said, stopping so suddenly that Harry almost walked into him. "Why don't you do it?"

"A warning might be nice when you stop," Harry growled. "You wouldn't want me to knock you over and break a hip, hmm?" Ignoring the headmasters raised eyebrow, he wordlessly cast the summoning charm, aiming his wand towards the green glow in the middle of the lake. With a noise like an explosion, something very large and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty feet away; before Harry could see what it was, it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface.

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

"Language, Harry," Dumbledore chastised. "And that is something, I think, that is ready to respond should we attempt to seize the Horcrux."

After that, they walked in silence until Dumbledore once again stopped suddenly, nearly causing Harry to crash into his back for a second time. Harry growled low in his throat, fighting the urge to push the headmaster into the lake. "What did I tell you about warning me you senile old coot!"

"If you could stand back against the wall, please; I think I have found the place." Dumbledore said. This time he was running his hand, not over the rocky wall, but through the thin air, as though expecting to find and grip something invisible. Harry watched with an annoyed expression, rubbing his hands together as they sparkled. His temper was wearing thin.

"Oho," Dumbledore exclaimed happily, seconds later. His hand had closed in midair upon something Harry could not see. Dumbledore moved closer to the water, the tips of his buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim. Keeping his hand clenched in midair, Dumbledore raised his wand with the other and tapped his fist with the point.

Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into Dumbledore's clenched hand. Dumbledore tapped the chain, which began to slide through his fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water.

"Well, you don't see that everyday." Harry commented as the ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a ripple, toward the place on the bank where they both stood. "It doesn't look like it's going to hold the both of us."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

"There _are_ two of us, Headmaster. You can count, right?" Dumbledore turned to give Harry one of his infamous penetrating looks, but the pyromaniac was not fazed.

"I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine." Harry snorted at that but said nothing in response as he was motioned to hop in first.

Dumbledore stood aside and Harry climbed carefully into the boat. Dumbledore stepped in too, coiling the chain onto the floor. They were crammed in together; Harry could not comfortably sit, but crouched, his knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which began to move at once. There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat's prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the light in the center. Soon they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; they might have been at sea except that there were no waves. Harry didn't like it one bit, but kept his discomfort hidden.

"Stupid boat," He muttered quietly. "Stupid water, stupid headmaster..." Or not so hidden.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his wand light sparkling and glittering on the black water as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror. Then Harry saw it, marble white, floating inches below the surface.

"Hello corpse," He said brightly. "How are you today?" He raised his wand higher, bathing the area he was staring at in light. What appeared was a dead man lying face-up inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke. "Inferi."

"You... are correct." Dumbledore answered, a little unnerved at his strange display.

"So," Harry drawled once more, looking for something to talk about. Dumbledore was starting to hate that drawl. "What do you think they're here for?"

"I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry."

Harry's head whipped around in an instant. "Did you say fire?"

Dumbledore blinked at his student's gleeful face. "I did."

"Excellent." He felt like cackling, but settled for a very disturbing chuckle as he laced his fingers together in front of his mouth. He couldn't wait to start burning something. All this water was making him antsy.

"Nearly there," Dumbledore said cheerfully, trying to ignore his strange pupil. Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger at last, and within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand for a second time he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake. "Careful not to touc-"

"Jesus Christ, I am not a retard. Fuck me..." Harry muttered the last part as he climbed out of the boat, purposely making a scene with his steps as he avoided the water. He smirked when the elder's eye twitched.

The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close up. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal. Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

"Looks like spew." Harry commented mildly, remembering the time he snuck out with the Weasley Twins to get hammered. It looked like the combination of everything they drank that night and brought back up in the morning. "So, what is this nasty stuff?"

"I am not sure," Dumbledore answered. "Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however." Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the surface of the potion.

"Oh sure, touching it is just real intelligent."

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I cannot touch it. See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You try."

Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air.

As Dumbledore was about to tell Harry to step back, his younger accomplices hand suddenly erupted in a ball of fire, the wave of heat radiating off the fiery limb astronomical. Harry continued to push against the invisible barrier as the flames grew larger, but still could not move any further. Sighing, Harry pulled back, shaking his hand as the flames died away.

"How..." Dumbledore stuttered. "How did... what..."

"What?" Harry asked. Dumbledore stared at the young man for a few seconds before shaking his head.

"Out of the way, please, Harry," He said. He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter. Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was time to speak up.

"The Horcrux is in there, right?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature." Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. "I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

Harry stared at his headmaster. "I'm sorry. Did you just say it has to be drunk?"

"Yes, I think so: Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."

"And here I thought no one, and I mean no one, could be more stupid than Ronald Weasley. Bravo, sir, bravo." Harry said dryly, clapping his hands in fake applause. Dumbledore huffed at the insult.

"I do not appreciate being talked to in such a manner," Dumbledore said sternly. "I've had just about enough of you're rudeness."

"And I do not appreciate having to return to Hogwarts with the dead body of my headmaster slung over my shoulder," Harry replied. "If you're really suicidal, do it on your own time, because I really don't feel like being blamed for murder," He paused for a few seconds, frowning, before continuing. "A murder I didn't commit anyway."

Ignoring the last bit, Dumbledore pressed on. "It has to be done if we want to get his Horcrux."

"Then transfigure something into an animal and feed it the potion, don't drink it your self, you stupid old man."

Dumbledore went to resort, his mouth moving, but no words escaped. This happened for nearly half a minute when he finally found his voice again. "Harry, you're a genius!"

"Quit sucking up." Harry muttered as the Supreme Mugwump pulled a wooden box out of his robes, placing it on the floor. Harry recognized it as the headmaster's candy box. Twirling his wand around his long, bony fingers, the box was quickly transfigured into a large dog that looked surprisingly like Sirius Black's animagus form.

"_Incarcrious_." Harry intoned, aiming his wand at the grim. Thick ropes fired from his wand and wrapped themselves around the creature, making it immobile, and around its snout like a mussel, only this one keeping its mouth open, not closed to stop it from biting.

"Good thinking, Harry. Now, let us proceed."

Harry watched as Dumbledore filled the crystal goblet by dipping it into the basin, passing straight through whatever had kept their hands from touching the vomit-like potion. Holding it in firm hands, the aging wizard lowered himself and poured the contents into the dog's mouth and down its throat. Harry was a little disappointed that nothing happened as Dumbledore went for a refill when suddenly, the grim let out a loud whining moan as it started thrashing against its binds violently. Harry could clearly see the pain in its hazy eyes.

"Better hurry, headmaster. He might explode or something," Harry said cheerfully, wanting that exact thing to happen. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Ignoring his pupil, Dumbledore continued to feed the transfigured animal the deadly concoction of doom, a name Harry decided for the vile liquid, careful not to spill any on the rocky floor. As they were nearing the bottom of the basin where Harry could see the form of a locket, one of the ropes holding the dog still snapped, surprising them both. Harry was quick to add more rope.

It wasn't long until the last of the potion was drained. The dog stopped thrashing and looked as if it were dead, it's rising chest the only thing telling them otherwise.

"Oho!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Here it is. Let us leave, quickly." Dumbledore scooped out the locket and quickly hid it within his robes, turning towards his student. Harry was not watching him, but watching their little transfigured friend that was being pulled into the water by a slimy, milky white hand. The surface of the lake was no longer mirror-smooth; it was churning, and everywhere Harry looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving toward the rock: an army of the dead rising from the black water.

Harry smirked. "You know, it feels like we are in a bad horror movie or something."

"Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore said, stepping forward, wand held high. "I'll take car-"

"The hell you will," Harry interrupted, pulling the headmasters arm down. "This is my time. You just sit and watch."

Dumbledore was about to reply when he saw the look on his students face. It was insanely gleeful, his emerald eyes wide, holding a crazed look about them as his mouth was pulled back in a vicious smirk, a few of his teeth bared in a weird snarl. He was trembling in excitement as he brought his hands up, a strange orange glow surrounding them.

"I suggest getting down, headmaster."

Dumbledore obeyed quickly, hitting the deck as a mini-explosion sounded, flames erupting from his students body: crimson and gold, a ring of fire surrounded the small rock they were on, blocking the Inferi's path. The living dead close enough stumbled and faltered before the flames, not knowing what to do next.

"Let's get this party started!" Harry shouted, linking his hands together as his body burst into flames. They didn't stand a chance as another mini-explosion sounded, the ring of fire expanding like a shockwave over the water, turning everything it touched to ashes in seconds. This continued until the fire hit the cavern walls, extinguishing on contact. Harry's cackling laugh filled the silence after the cave stopped rumbling...

But it wasn't over.

More bony corpses were rising from the waters depths, advancing on the two wizards at a rapid pace, and Harry decided on something different.

Clapping his hands together to reignite them, he knelt and placed the fiery limbs in the water, charging his magic, chuckling sadistically all the while. It didn't take Dumbledore long to see what was happening. The water started to churn more violently than before, then suddenly started to boil, steam billowing off the previously icy water in torrents. The cavern was filled with terrifying wails, inhuman screeches, as the living dead were boiled, their rotting bloated skin melting from their rickety bones. Even those without intact voice boxes were crying in agony, no doubt by magic. It truly was a frightening sound coupled with Harry's insane laughter.

"How do you like that, huh? HUH? Mwuahahahaha!"

"Harry,"

"Mwuahahaahahahaha!"

"Harry!"

"Mwuahahahaahahahahahahaahaha!"

"HARRY!"

"Mwuaha... what?" Harry snapped irritably.

"You destroyed the boat."

"...Shit."

-x-**X**-x-

Harry swore in his mind as he watched Dumbledore and Malfoy chat. For reasons unknown, Dumbledore had let a little shit like Malfoy disarm him but not before casting the Freezing Charm on Harry. He was propped up against one of the astronomy tower walls, under his invisibility cloak, itching to roast the little ferret but could not. He didn't know why the headmaster had done what he did, but something was up. Even without his wand, Malfoy would be hard pressed to even hit the elder wizard, but Dumbledore was standing there like he was at a disadvantage. None of it was making any sense.

"_Let me at him! LET ME AT HIM!"_

The little voice in his head was screaming for Dumbledore to let him go so he could deal to the little Death Eater spawn. A good roasting was what the doctor ordered, but no matter how loud the voice ranted, no one would hear it but himself.

Then suddenly footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later Malfoy was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door on to the ramparts. Harry stared at the Death Eaters, wanting nothing more than to break free and burn the lot of them.

They all talked some more, all of them obviously having gone to Hogwarts at one time or another as Dumbledore seemed to know all their names. Harry was particularly interested in Greyback when they all started fighting. Harry watched as the werewolf was nearly blasted over the railings. The furious look on his face promised much pain before the door banged open and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy.

"_I wonder if all that grease makes Snape more flammable."_

Harry wanted to chuckle at the little voice but couldn't.

"We've got a problem, Snape," The lumpy Amycus said, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "the boy doesn't seem able-"

But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly.

"Severus..."

Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed, something that surprised Harry.

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus... please..." Harry would have frowned if he could. Dumbledore was a lot of things he didn't like, but the man was not one to plead for his life. Heck, the man had wanted to drink that stupid vomit-looking potion back in the cave, as if he were a sacrifice. Something was definitely up.

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry watched in shocked horror, for the first time in his life, as Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

"Out of here, quic-" Snape never finished his command as wild, hot magic erupted from an unseen source, crashing into the group and throwing them violently against one of the walls with bone-shattering force. The magic Harry had been trying to use to force the Freezing Charm off himself had been released as soon as the spell ended after the casters death and had struck out before he could reign it in, not that he wanted to.

Stepping forward, the young Potter flicked his wand towards the door, wordlessly sealing it and protecting it with a few charms before waving it in a complex gesture, chanting something under his breath. The tower seemed to shift as walls sprouted from the floor, closing off the previously open ramparts. It was an airtight prison.

"Po-Potter!" Snape snarled, stumbling to his feet. Before any of the others could react, their wands were ripped from their hands to be caught in Harry's left where they were promptly incinerated with a thought. Snape paled slightly at the act.

"Well, well, well... the hunters become the hunted." Harry taunted, his eyes glowing fiercely. Even Malfoy, when he was able to shake off the after effects of being slammed into a wall was able to see the power being restrained. "I've always wanted to know what would happen if a human were to be... _cooked_ in an oven."

Greyback, having had enough, leapt forward quickly, his mouth open wide, showing off his impressive teeth. He was hurdled back into the same wall by a blast of fire that seemed to materialize out of thin air. He screamed as he clutched his face that was now covered in third-degree burns.

"Enough of this crap, time to die."

Before any of them could react, the room suddenly felt devoid of air as the temperature skyrocketed. They watched in horror as their masters greatest annoyance started glowing orange, then yellow, the air around his body distorting from the heat. It wasn't long before the Death Eaters, including Malfoy, were flopping around on the floor, screaming themselves hoarse as their skin was slowly warped from the heat radiating off the teen.

Each breath was painful as the unnaturally hot air filled and grilled their lungs, drying their eyes so much it hurt, causing the fluid within to start boiling. They were all covered in sweat but the body's natural defense could do nothing against such an onslaught.

The screams of agony started dying off, one by one. First Malfoy, his eyes imploding in their sockets, then Amycus whose entire face-skin had been peeled away, including parts of the muscle to show the skull beneath. The last two left alive were Snape and Greyback.

"This is getting boring." Harry boomed, his voice much deeper and more frightening than normal. Snapping his fingers, flames lanced towards the downed Snape, leaving nothing in its wake, not even ashes. Harry then turned to the werewolf, whom lasted as long as he did because he was no mere human. Concentrating, the room reached a new level of heat, quickly bringing Greyback more pain. His blood was boiling in his veins and with a large wet splat, his body exploded in a ball of fleshy gore, the heated blood bubbling as it coated the stone.

And then Harry laughed, the sound echoing throughout Hogwarts even through the solid stone, chilling everyone to the core.


	8. Pyro Harry and the Deathly Hallows

**Authors Notes: **Finally, it is time for the last little story of the Pyromaniac Series. I wasn't too happy with _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ but it did have its special moments, which is more than I can say for _Half-Blood Prince_. After this, there will be no more chapters. It isn't set in stone, but I'm pretty sure I won't be doing any more scenes.

Now, this takes place during the chapter of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

-x-**X**-x-

Harry watched with lazy hooded eyes as Luna Lovegood wandered away. Suddenly, disturbing Harry's good mood, Ron reappeared with an elderly witch clutching at his arm. Her beaky, red-rimmed eyes and feathery pink hat gave her look of a bad tempered flamingo. Harry liked flamingos so he smiled as politely as one such as himself could.

"...and your hair is much too long, Ronald, for a moment I thought you were Ginevra," Harry snorted loudly at this, earning a glare from Ron which he ignored. "Merlin's beard, what is Xenophilius Lovegood wearing? He looks like an omelette!" Harry shook with laughter. At last, he had found someone that liked to insult people as much as he did. "And who are you?"

Harry blinked as she barked at him, before smirking. "Har-"

"Oh yeah, Auntie Muriel, this is our Cousin Barny." Ron answered quickly, interrupting Harry. He again received a glare from the Weasley to which he rolled his eyes. He'd be sure to light the pricks hair on fire later, along with the rest of the Order's, for making him polyjuice into this plain, slightly chubby muggle-boy. He felt dirty just standing still in such a disguise.

"Another Weasley? You breed like gnomes," Harry snorted again, much louder than before. This old biddy was starting to amuse him greatly, and severely annoy Ron, a big bonus in Harry's opinion.

"Isn't Harry Potter here?" She asked suddenly. Harry quirked an eyebrow in question which went unnoticed. "I was hoping to meet him. I thought he was a friend of yours, Ronald, or have you been merely boasting?"

"No – he couldn't come –" Ron replied flustered.

"Hmm. Made an excuse, did he? Not as gormless as he looks in press photographs, then."

"Definitely not," 'Barny' injected.

"I've just been instructing the bride on how best to wear my tiara," She shouted at Harry, ignoring his injection. "Goblin-made, you know, and been in my family for centuries."

"Impressive," Harry said, nodding. "It must have a wonderful history."

"Of course," Muriel boasted before continuing. "She's a good looking girl, but still – _French_." Harry snickered. "Well, well, find me a good seat, Ronald, I'm a hundred and seven and I ought not to be on my feet too long."

Ron gave Harry a meaningful look as he passed, to which Harry merely clicked his fingers, a small flare of fire forming, jumping in the air before fizzling out. Ron paled at the sight before he hurried away as fast as he could, pulling his aunt with him.

Harry remained at the entrance, lazily directing people to their seats as he continued to click his fingers, fire jumping from one hand to the other, looking very much like a juggling act. At first, people were startled at such a display, but then figured he was apart of the entertainment. He didn't bother correcting their assumptions, continuing in his little game until Ron returned much later.

"Nightmare, Muriel is," Ron said, mopping his forehead on his sleeve.

"I think she's great." Harry commented.

"You would," Ron muttered as he flattened his hair.

"Did you say something?" Harry asked loudly, Ron starting in surprise at the loudness. He then realized just what Harry was doing.

"Harry! What are doing," He hissed urgently. "Stop that!"

"Whatever for?"

Ron was cut off from replying by the timely arrival of Hermione.

She was wearing a floaty, lilac-covered dress with matching high heels, her hair sleek and shiny. Harry had only seen her hair like that once before, at the Yule Ball. He had to admit, she looked half-way decent when she actually attempted to do something with that bush she called hair, but Harry knew very well that magic could make even a hag look desirable when correctly applied.

Ron blinked rapidly, his eyes widening in awe. "You look great!"

Harry felt like slapping him.

"Always the tone of surprise," She replied, though she was smiling, flushing slightly at Ron's compliment.

"Why wouldn't there be surprise?" Harry asked mildly, finally bored with his little juggling game. He was now trying to see how long he could balance a small flame on the end of his nose. "I mean, you normally look like a twelve-year old boy. At least you got those teeth of yours fixed awhile back, right?"

Hermione glared at Harry, her jaw clenched in anger, rage twisting her face into something even _more _unpleasant, Harry mentally joked, before she continued to Ron in a strained, shaky voice. "Your Great Aunt Muriel doesn't agree; I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then 'bad posture and skinny ankles'."

Harry chuckled before pouting childishly as the flame on his nose burst at his lack of concentration, fading into nothingness. "You're lucky she didn't see your hair before you prettied it up. She'd of been at it for hours," Hermione exploded, unable to keep quiet any longer. Harry would have thought she'd of gotten used to it by now, but she seemed to get even easier to bait as time wore on.

"Why you nasty little-" Hermione began.

"You talking about Muriel?" George enquired, re-emerging from the marquee with Fred. Harry ignored them as they talked around him, his mind once again focused on the task at hand. Focusing intently, sweat ran down his brow as he concentrated on the tip of his nose, were a decently sized flame sprouted. He found it was harder to use his powers while under polyjuice. It felt clogged, but easy enough to manage as his juggling act showed.

He continued with this for a minute or two until he was interrupted by a harsh shriek from beside him, nearly bursting his eardrums.

"Viktor!"

Harry felt like slapping her, maybe even punting her between the legs, but settled for glaring at her flushed face as she babbled excitedly. Turning, he smirked slightly at the sight of Ron's ears turning red as he looked at Viktor's invitation in disbelief, unable or unwilling to believe it. To be honest, Harry himself was a little surprised at Viktor's appearance, but remembered how well he got along with Fleur in the later stages of the tri-wizard tournament.

"How come you're here?" Ron asked loudly, staring the international Quidditch star – and one time personal hero – in the eyes.

"Fleur invited me," Krum replied, eyebrow raised in question. Harry decided it was time to leave them to their little love triangle.

"Have fun," Harry threw back over his shoulder at Krum as he wandered away, the Bulgarian giving him a strange look.

Strolling inside the marquee, Harry spied the group of young, hot Veela cousins and smiled slightly. He was definitely looking forward to meeting them later on after shedding his disguise, hopefully along with his clothes.

Settling down in second row, Harry waited as the last of the guests were shown inside. It wasn't long before the service started, Ron and Hermione sitting on either side of him, the formers ears still coloured red along with his entire face while Hermione was in a similar state for a whole different reason, eyes glazed slightly.

Music played as the groom stood along with his best man, the bride entering shortly after on her fathers arm. Fleur looked like she was literally gliding while Monsieur Delacour bounced besides her, beaming at everyone gathered. Fleur was wearing a very simple white dress and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it beautified everybody it fell upon, or as well as it could in Ginny Weasley's case, whom followed them in with Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, both wearing gold dresses.

Gabrielle stared at Harry the entire way up as she moved to the front, giving him such a lust filled look despite his temporary appearance that he almost forgot she was only eleven. Harry groaned softly under his breath; he'd definitely have to visit a few of those cousins later.

"Ladies and gentlemen," A slightly sing-song voice sounded, coming from the same tufty-haired wizard who had presided over Dumbledore's funeral. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls..."

"Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely," Muriel said in a rather carrying whisper. "But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low-cut."

Harry was about to laugh rather loudly, not caring where he was when Ginny suddenly glanced around grinning, winked at Harry, and then quickly faced the front again. Fred and George were very lucky he didn't spray the backs of their heads with vomit in that moment.

The rest of the ceremony was rather boring and Harry felt like leaving several times, by stopped himself from doing so. Then it was all over, the walls of the marquee disappeared as the wizard from Dumbledore's funeral flicked his wand as everyone stood on his command, a canopy left in its place that was held up by golden poles, with a glorious view of the sunlit orchard and surrounding countryside. Next, a pool of molten gold spread from the centre of the tent to form a gleaming dance floor as the chairs floated above their heads. They grouped together in the air around small, round white clothed tables which settled back down smoothly.

"I'm going to the crapper," Harry announced as a gold-jacketed band trooped towards a podium, several people shooting him outraged looks. "All that boredom upset my stomach."

"Har-Mmph!" Hermione almost screamed in indignation before Ron slapped his hand over her mouth to stop her from blowing Harry's cover.

"We should go and congratulate them," Ron said quickly, nodding towards Bill and Fleur who vanished amid a crowd of well-wishers seconds later.

"Go on without me," Harry said, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer from a passing tray. "Seeing Fleur brings back too many memories."

"Erm-Like what? Are they painful?" Ron asked, interested and slightly concerned. Hermione had shrugged off Ron's hand and was now glaring at Harry, which he ignored. It was becoming something of an art form, ignoring the muggle-born girl.

"No, not particularly. She's getting married and I'm sure the last thing she wants me remembering today is that cute look she gets when she tongues your balls," Harry took a sip, smirking inwardly at Ron and Hermione's looks of outraged shock mixed with disbelief. "Oh, didn't I tell you about that? Funny. I'm sure I'd mentioned it before."

"Wha-What?" Ron asked dumbly. "When... when..."

"Fourth year." Harry answered simply, spying Fleur's Veela cousins out the corner of his eyes. "Look, I better go before I shit myself."

With that, Harry quickly made a beeline for the Veela, hanging back amongst the crowd until they separated from everyone else and moved around the side of the house. Harry followed and smiled to himself as his skin flared orange, heat-waves visibly rising from his body. He sighed as fake skin began peeling from his body, his body shrinking back to its original size, hair and eye colour returning to normal. When he was done, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his glasses, perching them on his nose before tapped his robes with his wand, the clothes shrinking to fit comfortably.

"That's better," Harry commented to himself as he rounded the corner, finishing off his butterbeer in two large mouthfuls. "Hello ladies."

-x-**X**-x-

Harry groaned as he stretched, his back popping delightfully as he wiped his sweaty brow. Bending down, he grabbed his boxers, slipping into them before putting on his pants and under-shirt. A few feet away lay two naked women, wrapped around each other as they slept; a third partially clothed Veela slumped against a tree, her ample chest heaving as she gasped for breath, her bottom half fully exposed.

The Chosen One gazed at their exposed flesh with lust as he finished dressing himself, before wiping his steamed up glasses on his robe and putting them back were they belonged. He wanted to continue, the third girl having plenty more to offer but thought he better not give the Order a bigger heart attack than he probably already had with his disappearance. He couldn't be bothered dealing with more nagging than was necessary.

Twirling his wand, his security charms fell, a faint shimmer remaining as the last of the magic dissipated.

"I'm heading back the party," He told the third girl as he strolled off, not bothering to cover them in any way. He could care less if someone found them in such a state.

Approaching the party, Harry noticed it was now in full swing, almost everyone gathered on or around the dance floor. Looking around curiously, he spied Luna Lovegood swaying on the spot, alone, while several feet away, Viktor Krum seemed to be having a heated discussion with her father, Xenophilius. By the look on Krum's face, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if it broke out into a fistfight. Whatever it was, it had the normally calm Quidditch star furious.

"Where have you been!?"

Harry sighed as he turned towards the source of such a horrible screech. "Here and there,"

"We have been looking everywhere for you," Hermione ranted, Ron quickly appearing to try stem the flow. He was unsuccessful. But Harry wasn't. "And what happened to your disguise? What have you don-"

"For fuck sake, shut your mouth," Harry snapped. "You piss me off. Go talk to someone who actually wants to be _near_ you."

Harry blinked as he finished, suddenly realizing the lack of music. Turning his head, he found out why.

"What are you looking at?" He snarled as everyone stared at him with varying looks of shock and outrage.

Instead of a reply, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor, startling everyone present. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished guests. Heads turned as those nearest it stepped back in surprise, Harry and Hermione's little ruckus forgotten amidst this new development. Then the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. He knew this wasn't going to be good.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming._"

The reaction was immediate as the lynx vanished silently.

Harry swore as he was jolted by the panicking crowd as they ran in all directions, carrying Hermione and Ron away from him. Left and right people were apparating away, the enchantments around The Burrow broken. He watched as people trampled all over each other in their desperation, cloaked and masked figures appearing amongst the chaos; then he saw Lupin and Tonks, wands raised as they bellowed "_Protego!_", a cry that was echoed on all sides.

"Harry!"

Ignoring Hermione's frantic cry, Harry charged straight at the Death Eaters, forcefully pushing several people out of the way. Raising his right hand, a stream of fire lanced from his palm like a rocket, impacting against the chest of a large Death Eater who exploded in a ball of flames, his agonizing cries dwarfing everything else.

Ducking below an unknown curse, Harry brought his hand up to his mouth, kissing his palm in a mocking gesture before blowing across it at a group of Death Eaters, a jet of flames spurting forth from his throat. He watched with psychotic glee as the dark wizards screamed in terror before being engulfed in an inferno. When Harry ended his attack, nothing remained but ash and small charred bone fragments remained.

Looking around, he watched as several unknown Order members appeared from under disillusionment charms and invisibility cloaks, joining the already chaotic skirmish. Harry weaved in and out of the remaining guests who had stayed to fight instead of flee, sprinting up behind a large Death Eater who had Tonks under the cruciatus curse.

Igniting his hand, Harry dropped to his knees and reached between unaware man's legs, his flaming palm gripping the wizard's balls through his pants. The resulting scream was unlike anything Harry had ever heard in his entire life, rivalling that of a Banshee in sheer octaves alone.

Seeing Tonks staggering to her feet, the Chosen One left the now sobbing man sprawled on the ground, searching for his next victim. It was then that he felt a feminine hand grip his shoulder tightly. Reacting on instinct, Harry spun violently, wrenching his shoulder free as he brought his glowing hands up. He watched in surprise as Hermione and Ron vanished from sight mere moments later with the tell-tale sound of apparition, realising that they had been trying to side-along him away to safety.

Snorting, he continued his search before he was forced to abandon it.

Spinning on the spot, he apparated with a sharp _crack_, avoiding several curses that crashed into the patch of grass he had just occupied as he appeared on the roof of The Burrow, gaining a bird's eye view of the battle unfolding between Voldemort's followers and the Order of the Phoenix.

Grinning a touch madly, he held his palms open at his sides, two spheres of broiling compressed fire erupting to life. Gripping the balls of fire like they were solid, his right arm reared back. "Hey assholes!" He screamed, attracting the attention of many. "Catch!"

Throwing the ball with all his might, screams of pain filled the yard as it exploded violently upon contact with the ground, throwing several people off their feet as a wall of fire expanded outwards from the initial impact zone, flash frying everyone within a twenty meter radius. When the flames cleared and the smoke parted, several molten, charred corpses remained standing as they had been in their final moments, looking like deformed statues.

Cackling insanely, he went to throw the other compressed ball when a curse drilled him between the shoulder blades from behind. Harry cried in shock as he was flung from the roof, his hand loosening enough for the ball to slip through his fingers. All fighting ceased as the miniature bomb hit the roof, The Burrow exploding in a torrent of flames and debris. The resulting shock wave blasted everyone off their feet and crumpled the standing corpses to ash, carrying most through the air quite a distance.

Landing in a crumpled heap from his long fall, Harry groaned before he snarled viciously, turned to see who had cursed him from behind. He blinked in shock as he saw Voldemort himself, floating in a black mist that looked to be an extension of his body above where The Burrow once stood.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed in delight. "You are mine!"

Instead of replying, Harry threw both of his arms forward, a giant ball of flames erupting from his outstretched hands. Voldemort was barely able to swerve out of the way before he landed quickly, swiping his wand in a fast zigzag motion. The ground rumbled as several thick, long vines burst from the earth underneath the Boy-Who-Lived, wrapping themselves around his legs, forcing him into a kneeling position. Before he could struggle, two more vines ensnared his arms, pulling them taut against his sides, palms faced towards the ground.

Struggling with everything he had, Harry frothed from the mouth like a rabid dog, his eyes bulging wildly in their sockets. If there was one thing he hated more than water, it was being held captive, free-will stripped from him.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort mocked, staring down at his only remaining obstacle. "You really should have left when you had the chance."

"Fuck you!"

"Such language. Here, let me help with that." A quick twirl of a Yew wand had another vine shoot out of the ground, wrapping itself around the lower half of Harry's face. His eyes took on a psychotic glint as he thrashed harder against his prison. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way out of this. His wand was trapped within his robes and there was no way he could burn himself out fast enough to avoid a casual killing curse... unless...

Harry glared at Voldemort with all the hatred he could muster, ceasing his fruitless struggling. He had no other choice.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he saw his nemesis' posture relax completely. The insane teenager who had only moments before looked like he should be in St. Mungo's mental ward was now as calm as he had ever seen, like his life and the lives of many others weren't moments from ending. Curiosity getting the better of him, he locked eyes with Harry, delving deep into the boys unprotected mind.

Before he had even retreated back into his own mind, Voldemort's body went rigid, his face twisting into one of shock. Regaining control of his body, he bellowed a retreat order seconds before attempting to apparate away.

He was too slow.

-x-**X**-x-

Less than hour later, muggle news stations around the world reported that an atomic bomb had been detonated on English soil, destroying miles upon miles of farm land, among various towns in the surrounding area. The Royal Family as well as the muggle Prime Minister were evacuated to secure locations in fear of a second strike while countries all over the world went into high alert. The final death toll was unconfirmed for weeks after the blast and the cause a complete mystery, tests indicating the power of the blast more powerful than any other bomb ever made. The lack of radiation was also something that baffled many for years to come.

It wasn't until the blast zone was being searched days later after it was deemed radiation free that something was found, that something being the naked body of a black haired, seventeen year old boy with emerald green eyes, whom, to the puzzlement and disbelief of muggles everywhere was still very much alive.

He wouldn't awake for several years, even after being taken back in by magical society, where he would lay in St. Mungo's under the best care money could buy until one day, mere days after word got out about possible Dark Mark sightings that Harry Potter vanished from his hospital bed, leaving nothing more than a few scorched sheets.

Several days later, various pureblood family homes went up in flames, the cause unknown.

-x-**X**-x-

The. Fucking. End.

I hope you all enjoyed reading it, though I know some of your probably hate the end. Sorry if the chapter doesn't deliver, I'm a bit rusty in my writing. Can't be helped.


End file.
